


Darkness

by honeyMellon



Category: Bleach
Genre: Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyMellon/pseuds/honeyMellon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo is a college freshman in a new country, new city. He meets Renji at a bar and goes home with his new friend. You know that saying, never trust a stranger? AU. Renji x Ichigo x Shuuhei.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: Like I mentioned before, this is dark (if the title didn't warn you already). This is the first time I've written anything like that, I hope I won't offend anyone in the process.**

* * *

Ichigo licked his lips nervously, his eyes sweeping over the dark room packed full of writhing, swaying bodies. The dance music was obnoxiously loud over the speakers, and bright, hot lights flashed in sync with the beat all around him, the colors changing every second. It was enough to send any epileptic patient into a seizure.

He hated this place. Not even five seconds in this noisy, smoky club, and Ichigo was ready to bolt. The air reeked of sweat and alcohol from the mostly intoxicated customers and it made him feel sick. Why anyone would get any entertainment out of this was beyond him.

The only reason he even stepped foot into this hellhole was his roommate. Ichigo had only been to the states for less than a week, so he really only knew one person — Starrk Coyote, his older, laid-back, eccentric American roommate. Ichigo was fresh from Japan, and his English was not very fluent; he could hold a conversation in a classroom alright, but throw in slangs and accents in the "real world" and he's lost.

And that's exactly how he felt at the moment. Lost. Lost in the sea of people, all alone, because Starrk had sauntered off by himself the minute they arrived, and Ichigo hadn't been quick enough to see where he had gone. Now he's stuck with no means of transportation, limited communication skills, and not to mention, not a lot of money in his pocket.

Ichigo wasn't a timid person, but even the bravest person would feel a little intimidated being surrounded by strangers, most of them drunk or getting there, and for the most part taller and larger than him. He wasn't underweight by any means; he maintained a healthy body weight, worked out enough to keep his body lean and fit, but these people here were _huge_.

He licked his lips and searched for Starrk again. It was a near impossible task — the room was simply too dark and confusing, and there were way too many people. It wasn't like Starrk was particularly easy to pick out amongst the crowd; he had brown, wavy shoulder-length hair and a neatly-trimmed goatee. There were many, many men with wavy brown hair here, and Ichigo couldn't make out anyone's faces in the darkness. It didn't help that Starrk was wearing black, either.

To make things worse, the music was starting to give him a headache. After fifteen more minutes of fruitless searching, Ichigo gave up and headed for the bar. He was a college freshman, but because he'd spent a few years volunteering as a teacher at a rural town in his home country, he was older than most students in his year. He was thankful for that now, because he could definitely use a drink to stave off his boredom.

The bartender was a strange-looking older gentleman who was dressed more like a butler than your typical bartender at a nightclub, complete with a waistcoat and a bowtie. He had a strip of black cloth across his face, serving as an eyepatch for his right eye. Ichigo tried his best not to stare and politely ordered a bottle of beer. He knew it was tame and boring, but he didn't really want to get too buzzed.

He was about to take his third sip when a stranger suddenly sat down next to him. He immediately stiffened up; the man was invading his personal space, and he didn't like it. He thought about speaking up, but as he was still trying to put the right words together, the stranger spoke.

"It's too fucking loud here."

Ichigo's eyes lit up. The man spoke in Japanese with a typical Tokyo accent; Ichigo was delighted even though the words were so crude. He took a closer look at the stranger, who was looking right at him. The man was quite a sight — the color of his blood red hair was distinct even in the horrible lighting, and he had tattoos on his forehead, his neck, and his biceps. He topped off the look with a horrendous-looking, bright yellow t-shirt and a pair of ripped, well-worn black jeans. Ichigo swallowed, feeling slightly nervous. The tattoos seemed to indicate gang relation, but then again this is the US, it could be just a fashion statement for all he knew. Either way, he was so ecstatic to find a fellow countryman here that he replied anyway.

"Yes, it's horrible," Ichigo agreed. He smiled at the man, who grinned back and nodded.

"Your first time here?" the stranger practically shouted. The music had kicked up a notch, drowning out most of the conversation around them.

Ichigo didn't bother trying to out-yell the music and simply nodded.

"Welcome!" The man stuck out his hand. "I'm Abarai Renji. What's your name?"

Ichigo swapped his beer to his left hand and shook Renji's hand. He waited for the singer to finish screeching, then said, "Kurosaki Ichigo."

Renji's eyebrows arched. "Seriously?" he asked with an amused smirk.

Ichigo rolled his eyes — he got this _all_ the time. He shrugged, making a "what can I do?" face.

As if reading Ichigo's mind, the redhead grinned and said, "You must get this all the time. Don't worry, I won't laugh in your face."

As their conversation went on, Ichigo found himself getting more and more relaxed around his new friend. Renji was a senior at the same university and was set to graduate after this semester with a Computer Engineering degree. He was from Tokyo; unlike Ichigo, he had more of a reverse cultural shock — this city was tame to him, even boring, while Ichigo was still wide-eyed with awe.

One beer led to another, then Renji somehow convinced Ichigo to try tequila shots — straight up with a bit of lime and a touch of salt. It was fun. The two of them swapped stories; Ichigo told Renji about his older, still-missing roommate, while Renji told Ichigo about the other hangouts in the city, which one had the nicest girls and which one had the cheapest drinks.

"I don't think I should," Ichigo hiccuped, holding his hands up when Renji handed him a sixth shot glass. His face was completely flushed now, and his cheeks were burning like a pair of torches. Starrk had yet to show up, and even if he was looking for Ichigo, he would be having a hard time, because the cellphone Ichigo had ordered online was due to arrive the next day.

Renji scoffed and claimed the glass for himself. "Weak."

Ichigo laughed and gave the redhead the middle finger. "I...have this thing called...self control," he slurred.

* * *

_Self control my ass_ , Renji thought, eyeing the kid in amusement.

The guy was _plastered_. His words had started to run into one another three glasses ago and his eyes were glassy. It was absolutely hilarious.

He was cute, too. Renji liked the hair, especially — short, spiky, and so irresistibly _orange_. Ichigo had large eyes, the irises a warm golden-brown. His face was slim, his features sharp. He was tall and a bit on the skinny side, but Renji could tell that he was fit and probably sported flat, well-toned abs underneath his t-shirt. If Ichigo was a little more sober, Renji wouldn't dare to check him out so openly, but the kid was pretty far gone by now that he probably wouldn't even flinch if Renji were to grope his butt.

Renji sat back and let his eyes roam up and down the younger man's body. Definitely one-night-stand material.

With that thought in mind, Renji leaned closer and asked in a lower voice, "Do you want to get out of here? Get some fresh air?"

Ichigo held up his empty glass in a mock salute and slid off the bar stool, tumbling a little before Renji grabbed his elbow.

"Watch it, man," Renji laughed. Just to test how far he could go, he took the Ichigo's arm and slung it over his shoulder, and then slipped his own arm around the boy's waist.

Ichigo didn't struggle, didn't push him away. If anything, he seemed to lean _into_ Renji's body. "I'm fine," Ichigo muttered, only to stumble over his own feet as the two of them squeezed their way towards the exit.

Renji almost sighed out loud in relief when the fresh air hit him full in the face as he stepped outside. He practically dragged Ichigo all the way, until they arrived at the corner of the street. He let go of the younger man, and Ichigo immediately sagged against a lamp post, just barely keeping himself upright. Renji hoped he would sober up slightly later; he preferred his partners conscious, thank you very much.

A shrill ringtone cut through the noisy background — there were still people lining up outside, waiting to get into the club. Renji cursed and thrust his hand into one of his pockets. He fished out his cell and scowled at the screen, then he took a better look at the caller ID.

 _Shuuhei_. Renji's lips curled into a lopsided smirk.

"Hey, sexy," he said into the phone. He glanced at Ichigo, who was now humming softly with a faraway look in his eyes.

Shuuhei laughed, his voice deep and sultry. "You wanna meet tonight?"

"Gimme a sec." Renji tilted his head to hold the phone between his ear and his shoulder. Ichigo was beginning to slide down the post, so Renji gave him a little boost to straighten him up again. Ichigo giggled and brushed Renji's hand aside, mumbling something about feeling perfectly _fine_.

"Who's that?" Shuuhei asked with a chuckle. "Aww, you have other plans tonight?"

Renji laughed and grabbed the phone with his hand. "Just a kid I picked up at The Academy. I'm just about to take him home." He took a quick look at Ichigo, noting his rosy cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes. _Hmm._ "You wanna join?" he asked, kinky thoughts beginning to form in his mind.

There was a brief pause on Shuuhei's side, then, just as Renji thought that he'd scared Shuuhei — he didn't think that was possible, the man replied, "I thought you'd never ask. Be there in twenty."

* * *

If Renji had known how much work he'd have to go through to get the orange-haired kid into his apartment, he might've re-considered. But as it was, he wiped his brows and half-lifted, half-guided the young man into his bedroom, and then with a loud grunt, lay him down on his king-sized bed. Ichigo chuckled with his eyes closed, apparently amused at the noises that Renji had been making all the way from his car to his apartment.

"Yeah, you laugh now," Renji muttered. He looked down at Ichigo, who was sprawled on his back on the bed, his arms spread out on his sides. Renji had managed to wrestle his shoes off, and now one of his legs was stretched out straight on the bed while the other hung off the side of it. Even fully clothed, the boy was an open invitation, and Renji's mouth watered at the thought of what he was going to do with Ichigo later.

No — what _they_ were going to do with him.

He and Shuuhei shared a "more than friends, not really together" type of relationship. They'd known each other for a few years; Renji had met Shuuhei during his first year at college. At the time, Shuuhei had just graduated and was back on campus doing some volunteer career counseling. A few conversations and a couple of nights out later, they ended up in Shuuhei's bed. It was a little awkward at first, but once they found out that neither were looking for commitment, they eventually settled on this friends-with-benefits arrangement. They kept in touch off and on — sometimes once a month, sometimes twice a week. There was nothing predictable about it, and Renji liked it that way.

This wouldn't be the first time they "shared". If the other party was willing to play along, they were game for anything. In Ichigo's case, _willing_ may not be the most accurate word to use, but he hadn't objected to Renji's touches so far. They would try later, see how Ichigo would respond to Shuuhei. If the kid was receptive, who were they to say no?

Renji was pulling off Ichigo's socks when the doorbell rang, He immediately jogged to the door and opened it, revealing one of the most gorgeous men he'd ever seen in his life. Even though Hisagi Shuuhei was slight shorter and slimmer than Renji, his body was lean and strong, and he had eyes that were capable of visually undressing anyone. Shuuhei stepped in and went straight for Renji's mouth, sliding his tongue between Renji's lips aggressively. Grinning, Renji kissed back just as eagerly before pulling away and gesturing for Shuuhei to follow him into the bedroom.

"Sweet," Shuuhei whistled and looked at Ichigo appreciatively.

The boy was still on his back, both legs stretched out on the bed, humming some nameless tune that actually sounded half-decent. At Shuuhei's voice, he turned and cracked his eyes open. "Hi," he said, giving Shuuhei a half-hearted wave that looked more like a "come here" sign than anything else.

"He's pretty wasted," Renji said a little wistfully. It wouldn't be as fun if Ichigo wasn't into it.

Shuuhei shrugged off his black leather jacket and flung it on the floor. "Works for me," he said, his eyes already darkening.

Renji recognized that look and couldn't help but chuckle. Looked like Shuuhei was in one of those moods tonight; he could be like that once in a while. Sometimes he couldn't even wait till he was inside Renji's apartment before attacking him, pulling and tugging at his clothes the instant the door opened. Renji found it amusing and arousing at the same time.

The bed dipped and creaked softly as Shuuhei climbed onto it. He had wasted no time stripping everything off, and Renji stared, mesmerized, as the older man crawled over Ichigo and went straight in for the kid's mouth. Renji's heart hung in the air for a split second — would Ichigo struggle or give in? His shoulders relaxed when Ichigo let out a moan that was immediately silenced by Shuuhei, only to tense up again when the boy's hands went to Shuuhei's shoulders, looking like he was going to push Shuuhei away.

"Shhh..." Shuuhei pulled back just enough for him to grab Ichigo's wrists and pin his arms down on the mattress.

Somehow, Shuuhei's voice must've soothed the young man's nerves because he fell silent after that. His head turned to the side limply, but Shuuhei turned him back around and began to kiss him — the deep, wet kind with all tongue and teeth. Ichigo moaned again, and this time he responded by opening his mouth. That drew a groan of approval from Shuuhei, and Renji could see the muscles on his bare back ripple as he pressed down on Ichigo's body, driving his hips into the younger one's. When Ichigo arched his back and thrust his hips upwards, Renji grinned — looked like the problem of getting Ichigo into it just solved itself.

Renji left a trail of discarded clothing as he climbed onto the bed to join them, carefully avoiding Ichigo's legs as he crawled over to the other side. Shuuhei looked up just as Renji was settling down next to Ichigo, and Renji sat back up to grab a fistful of Shuuhei's short black hair and pull him in to claim those lips for his own. Shuuhei pulled away from Ichigo and tried to move over to his red-haired lover, but Ichigo immediately held on to his wrist and whined. The boy's lips were red and moist with Shuuhei's saliva, and his half-closed eyes were looking at the older man longingly, obviously not liking the idea of Shuuhei moving away from him.

Renji laughed and let go of Shuuhei's hair. "Not even five minutes and he loves you already," he teased.

Shuuhei flashed him a cocky smile before returning his attention to the young man beneath him. Ichigo was still fully clothed, and Shuuhei was going to fix that right now. It wasn't easy; Ichigo was conscious but obviously not quite here, and it showed in his sluggish movements. Renji joined in to help, and between the two of them, they finally managed to get his clothes off.

"Why the fuck do they make clothes so tight nowadays?" Renji complained as he flung Ichigo's jeans to a far corner of his room.

His only response was a loud, drawn out moan from Ichigo, and he turned around to see Shuuhei running his hands along Ichigo's straining length. The boy's fingers curled around fistfuls of bedsheet and his hips were raised, practically begging for more. The look on Shuuhei's face was now bordering onevil, and Renji could tell that Shuuhei had just changed his mind about jumping right in. Just as the thought crossed his mind, Shuuhei turned to him, one corner of his mouth upturned with a mischievous glint in his slate-grey eyes. Their gaze met briefly, and Renji had to resist the urge to rub his palms together in glee.

Shuuhei scooted up and settled on his knees, hovering over Ichigo's chest. He bent down and tucked all the pillows under the boy's head to prop him up so that he was now half-lying down, half-sitting up. Once he was satisfied with Ichigo's position, Shuuhei moved up further and patted Ichigo's cheeks lightly. The boy looked up at him with glazed eyes and smiled, oblivious to what Shuuhei was about to do.

"Open up for me, baby," Shuuhei whispered, patting Ichigo's cheek again. He supported the boy's face with one hand and held himself with the other, and waited for Ichigo to respond to his request. Ichigo frowned slightly in confusion, and then his eyes widened suddenly as Shuuhei thrust his hips towards his face. He struggled, his eyes blinking rapidly, and then his mouth fell open. He threw his head back against the pillows and let out the most delicious sound that Shuuhei had ever heard, and then his hand flew from the sheets to Shuuhei's thighs _._

Shuuhei chuckled and glanced back at his partner. Renji was holding Ichigo's hips down and his head was buried between the boy's legs — obviously the source of Ichigo's sudden burst of pleasure. Shuuhei had experienced it first-hand and could vouch for Renji's skills. Ichigo would be mush in his hands now.

"C'mon," Shuuhei urged again. This time, Ichigo complied, his mind too occupied with his own pleasure to comprehend what he was being asked to do. Shuuhei closed his eyes and hissed as he slid himself between Ichigo's parted lips. The boy shook his head groggily but Shuuhei held his head in place and began to move. It was either drool all over the place or close his mouth, and Ichigo chose the second option. His groans came out muffled as Renji continued to work his mouth and tongue on him. Their voices became intermixed — Shuuhei's was low and throaty, while Ichigo's was higher, silkier.

As Ichigo got used to Shuuhei being in his mouth, he began to respond, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing, squeezing Shuuhei with the insides of his cheeks. The combination of that and the vibrations coming from Ichigo's throat as he moaned brought Shuuhei precariously close to the edge, and he quickly pulled out before he climaxed. It felt good, but the night was still young — he had plenty more in mind for this gem.

When Shuuhei stopped, Renji got up and wiped his mouth with a questioning look in his eyes. But before he could say anything, Ichigo moaned, "Don't stop."

The two friends exchanged a look and Shuuhei burst out laughing. Rolling his eyes, Renji bent down and went back to work. Shuuhei sat back and watched, enjoying the sight of the redhead bobbing up and down, his lips stretched around the younger man's length. Shuuhei's hand unconsciously went to his own arousal, his lust spurred on even more by the wet, messy sounds from the act. Not one minute later, Ichigo cried out and stiffened, his fingers tangled in Renji's long hair. His hips arched off the mattress briefly, then, as the last moan left his throat, he fell limply back onto the mattress.

Chuckling, Renji crawled up towards his face and took his mouth. Ichigo kissed back sleepily, his body relaxing after the high.

"Don't fall asleep on me now," Renji laughed. He licked a trail from the corner of Ichigo's mouth down his neck, then he bit down.

Ichigo's eyes flew open immediately and he gasped in surprise. Renji hadn't really bitten that hard, but the sudden sting was enough to jar him awake. _Awake_ , but still not entirely here. Renji laughed again and looked into Ichigo's eyes.

"Think he'll remember us tomorrow?" Renji asked in an amused tone.

Shuuhei shot back, "If you're as good as I am, maybe."

Renji snorted, then he climbed off the bed and went to his bedside drawers. In the meantime, Shuuhei went over to Ichigo and gently stroked him. The boy smiled up at him for a moment before his eyes fluttered closed, his body arching instinctively into Shuuhei's hand.

"Nah, he's not falling asleep on ya," Shuuhei chuckled. He straddled the younger man's hips and ground down; the pressure and the friction drew a hiss from him and a whispered moan from Ichigo. Shuuhei rolled his hips, then again, and again. Each time, his hands dug deeper into the sheets on either sides of Ichigo's shoulders; he was getting impatient.

"What the hell's taking you so long?" he called out.

Without turning around, Renji gave him the middle finger. "New box. Stupid packaging," he grumbled, and then he was back at Shuuhei's side. He tossed a small packet and a bottle towards his friend and kept a packet for himself.

Shuuhei picked up the bottle and poured a generous amount onto his palm, then he rubbed his fingers together, slicking them up thoroughly. When he was done, he nudged Ichigo's thigh with one knee, and Ichigo moved his legs, wrapping them loosely around Shuuhei's thighs. His breaths were coming harsh and fast, his gaze still slightly unfocused but he was obviously staring at Shuuhei.

"Come on, don't make him wait," Renji teased.

Shuuhei rolled his eyes and raised one of Ichigo's knees, then he slid a finger inside. Ichigo immediately bucked, his hand flying to the sheets again. Renji went over to him and bent down to drag his tongue along Ichigo's lips; Ichigo opened his mouth and Renji dove in. He traced his tongue along the boy's teeth and tongue, and then Ichigo bucked again. His cries came out muffled, but Renji could feel the trembling in the boy's limbs. With another muffled moan, Ichigo bucked again, and again, and then Shuuhei tugged on Renji's hair.

"Get out of my way," Shuuhei complained in mock annoyance.

Renji scooted away and watched his friend spread Ichigo's thighs. Gasping in anticipation, the boy immediately hooked his legs around Shuuhei's hips. Shuuhei didn't need any more encouragement than that, and with a smooth, hard thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt. Ichigo cried out, his legs tightening around Shuuhei, effectively trapping the older man against his body.

"Shit," Shuuhei groaned. He looked at Renji, his brows furrowed from his effort to hold himself still. "Tight," he croaked.

Renji swallowed. This was too much — he was throbbing and _aching_ , and he had to listen to Shuuhei talk like _that_. "Hurry up," he said hoarsely. His heart was racing inside his rib cage, his blood roaring in his ears. _Damnit, he needed something_ right fucking now!

"On your back," he said to Shuuhei.

Shuuhei's lips pulled back into a leer. "Gimme a sec," he said. He reared up onto his knees and slipped his arms beneath Ichigo's knees and pulled the boy closer. Then he took a deep breath and snapped his hips forward over and over again, hard and fast like his life depended on it. Ichigo's moans broke, the air knocked out of his lungs every time Shuuhei slammed into him. Then, just as abruptly, Shuuhei stopped and pulled out. His hair was getting damp from sweat, his face and chest flushed pink.

"Don't stop," Ichigo whispered. He sat up and grabbed Shuuhei's arms and added, "Please." He was obviously very close — the urgency was clear on his face and the way his fingers dug painfully into Shuuhei's skin.

Shuuhei laughed softly and lay down on his back. He pulled Ichigo onto his lap and said, "We're not stopping, babe. Come up here."

Body shaking with need, Ichigo let Shuuhei guide him, and then he shuddered as he was lowered onto the older man. It was almost like he suddenly came alive, because as soon as he was seated fully, he began to move, lifting himself up and then dropping back down feverishly. Shuuhei's eyes nearly rolled back into his head, but he managed to catch himself, and he stopped Ichigo, holding the boy tightly in place. Ichigo whined and bucked in protest.

"Shhh..." Renji placed one hand on Ichigo's shoulder from behind and whispered into his ear. "Wait for me."

There was a low hiss, a wave of tension in Shuuhei's muscles, and then Renji groaned as he pushed slowly into Shuuhei. "Lean forward a bit, Ichigo," he gasped.

Ichigo complied wordlessly, giving Renji more space to move. Shuuhei squeezed his eyes shut, his senses torn between the tight, crushing heat wrapped around him and the burning hot ache inside of him. He breathed through his mouth, and then when he finally deemed himself ready, he let go of Ichigo. The boy acted like a released wild horse and immediately began to bounce. Renji joined in a second later, his voice adding to the erotic symphony echoing in the small room. He started slow, but soon fell into the same wild rhythm set by Ichigo.

As Ichigo's movements became more and more frantic, Shuuhei reached out and wrapped his hand around the boy. That was all it took — Ichigo's body seized up, his mouth open but silent, and then he fell forward, catching himself just in time before he crushed Shuuhei.

"Almost there," Renji murmured, his jaw clenched tightly.

Shuuhei didn't bother responding; instead, he gripped Ichigo's hips and urged him to continue moving. Tired and sleepy now, Ichigo's movements were clumsy and slow, but with Renji going at it like this, it was enough to give Shuuhei that little extra push — with a gasp, he stiffened and spilled himself deep inside the boy.

Renji managed a few more shallow, jerky thrusts before he followed suit. He lurched forward, breathing so hard that his throat burned. His clammy forehead hit Ichigo's equally-clammy back, but he ignored the stickiness and let himself rest like this while he recovered his breath.

It took them a while to disentangle themselves afterwards, mostly because Ichigo had passed out. Renji eventually managed to get him into his clothes in a somewhat presentable fashion, while Shuuhei waved and left with a wide grin on his face.

"Asshole," Renji muttered under his breath, annoyed that he was stuck with Ichigo alone.

But when he looked down at the unconscious young man, he couldn't help chuckling; Ichigo was cute even with his mouth hanging open and snoring like a bear. He brushed a few strands of stray hair from Ichigo's face and wondered if the boy would remember them in the morning, and if he did, how much would he remember?

* * *

_It's too bright it's too bright it's too bright!_

Ichigo twisted his body around, instinctively shrinking away from the sunlight. Apparently, someone had dropped a crate of bricks on his head some time during the night. He opened his mouth to groan but found that he couldn't; his mouth was dry and his throat _hurt_ , and his tongue felt too large for his mouth.

 _A hangover_. He recognized the signs and knew that he was nursing the worst hangover in his life yet.

"Mister?" a voice suddenly asked.

Startled, Ichigo sat up, only to immediately sink back down on the…couch. As he fought down a bout of nausea, he struggled to get his bearings. Where the hell was this?

"Sir," the voice insisted. "Are you alright?"

 _No I'm not_ , Ichigo croaked inside. But outwardly he could only wince. The voice was too loud, way too loud, and it was making his head throb in time with his pulse. He looked to the source of the voice — it was a young man with dark blond hair with a kind, friendly face. His brown eyes were large and bright, and he was currently looking at Ichigo with a frown of concern.

Ichigo swallowed a few times, but that only made his throat hurt even more. His look of distress wasn't lost on the boy, because he walked away briefly and returned with a small plastic cup of water. Ichigo took it gratefully.

"Where am I?" Ichigo asked, his voice so hoarse that he could hardly recognize it himself. The place looked familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"You're at the reception area in Camper Hall," the boy replied. "Someone dropped you off here last night, but we weren't able to wake you up so I don't know which room you're in."

Ichigo blinked. Someone dropped him off? From where? How'd they know where he lived? "Room 1335," he mumbled. His hand went to his right pocket and froze, then he started to pat himself down frantically. His key was gone!

"Here." The boy handed him a bunch of keys.

Ichigo's eyes widened. Of course — whoever it was would assume that he lived here because of the Camper Hall tag on his key ring. Still, that didn't explain who had dropped him here, and why, and most important of all, from where? He tried to think, but his pounding headache refused to let him concentrate even for a few minutes, and he eventually gave up. He noted the name tag on the blonde's shirt: Tesla Lindocruz. _Definitely_ not something he could pronounce in his current condition.

"T-tesla," Ichigo tried. "Do you remember who…" He let his sentence trail off; he didn't know what he should say. Did the person drive? Bike? Walk him home? Dragged his sorry ass in in a body bag?

Tesla gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, when I came in for my shift, you were already here. I could ask my colleague…"

"No, it's okay," Ichigo said automatically. There was no point troubling someone because of his own stupidity.

Not wanting to bother the friendly receptionist any more than he already had, Ichigo wobbled to his feet and began his treacherous journey to his dorm room. His body _ached_ all over; he felt like a pile of laundry that had just gone through the washer _and_ dryer. Some places hurt more than others; like his thighs for example. Luckily for him, it was only one floor above, and there was an elevator. His vision was getting blurry, and the throbbing ache behind his eyes made every step a torture. But somehow, miraculously, he managed to reach his room, and he stumbled inside.

Starrk wasn't in the room. Ichigo was relieved, because he really couldn't handle any more talking. Even the slightest noise threatened to trigger his gag reflex, and he was already having a hard enough time holding his stomach down as it was. He headed for his bed, but the moment he lowered his head to sit down, he felt the unmistakable taste of bile in the back of his throat. He clamped a hand over his mouth and ran, tripping and skidding his way to the nearest restroom. He got there just in time to retch into the toilet bowl, emptying everything he'd had for the past twenty four hours until he felt faint. He didn't even care when some water splashed onto his cheek.

By the time he dragged himself to the sink, he felt ten years older. He felt like crap, and he was sure that he looked like it too. Sure enough, his face was pale and looked so dry that he could see tiny flakes around his mouth. He rinsed out his mouth and immediately felt slightly more human.

What the fuck did he do that got him so wasted?

He tried to remember, but his jello-like brain could only recall snippets — Starrk, a bar, lots of people, horrible music. He'd had some drinks, _lots_ of it if his current state was any indication. But beyond that, he drew a blank. It was as though his life had become a skipped tape from that point onwards. Surely he hadn't drunk alone. Was it Starrk? Did he end up drinking with Starrk?

Ichigo groaned; all this thinking was making his head hurt. He could leave that for later, he was sure he would be able to remember more when his brain worked again. Now, all he wanted to do was to collapse in his bed and hibernate for at least one month. With that thought in mind, he turned on the faucet to wash his face. The icy cold water felt like silk against his itchy skin, and his shoulders relaxed for the first time since he woke up. He grabbed a piece of napkin and dried his face, then he froze as something caught his eyes. He stared at his own reflection in the mirror and brushed his hair aside to expose his neck.

There it was — it wasn't his imagination. There was a bite mark right there, below his earlobe, partially hidden by the ends of his hair.

_What. The. Fuck._

What the hell did this mean? He turned his head from side to side and craned his neck to check if there were any other marks, but that was the only one he could see. Was it a hickey? Did he end up having drunken sex? Was that why his body ached?

Ichigo couldn't remember.

He couldn't remember, and he was starting to freak out, but his mind was beginning to shut down on him, refusing to let him dwell any further on things that he should be worried about. Too exhausted to fight his body, he let his legs carried him back to his room, and by the time he hit the mattress, he was already asleep.

* * *

**To be continued...**

**Phew, that was a pretty long chapter! Hope you liked it. Let me know what you think...I've never written a threesome, so...be gentle on me!**


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Ichigo felt human enough to crawl out of his bed, it was already late evening on Sunday - more than twenty four hours since his mysterious return to the dormitory. And by Monday morning, he felt well enough to actually step outside into the sunlight. It was truly the _worst_ case of hangover that he'd ever had, and hopefully the last of its kind.

He had a full week ahead of him before orientation day, but he wanted to take the time to explore the campus, and who better to show him around if not Starrk? Starrk - his idiot roommate who disappeared on him on Friday night, but also the one who brought him essentials like water and food to keep him hydrated and alive throughout his ordeal. So, yes, the older male had redeemed himself in Ichigo's eyes.

"This here is the student centre," Starrk drawled, pointing to an impressive, two-story red brick building as they walked past it. "There are some fast food outlets here, a computer lab, the book store, computer store, blah blah blah."

Ichigo threw him a dirty look at the last part of his commentary, but there was no real heat in his eyes - his attention was on the sheer size of the building. He could tell that the building was old, but like the rest of the university, it was well maintained and gave off an air of elegance and wisdom. Just looking at the place made Ichigo feel more intelligent already.

Starrk crossed his arms over his chest and watched his younger roommate in amusement. If Ichigo was a character in a cartoon, this would be where the animators made his jaw drop to the floor and drool all over himself. Starrk remembered his own first impression of the campus many years ago and shook his head - it was so easy to be awed when one was young. He had long gotten over it; seven long years in the same place tend to have that kind of effect on someone.

Feeling a little bored, Starrk yawned, earning a look of exasperation from his roommate.

"Do you want coffee?" Ichigo asked. "My treat."

Starrk perked up at the mention of something _free_ , a common trait of poor graduate students. Coffee didn't work on him, but he nodded anyway.

The two of them went through the giant circular door and stepped into the perfectly air-conditioned building. Ichigo immediately saw the neon signs boasting Subway, Burger King, Pizza Hut, and…lo and behold, the ever-present Starbucks. He turned his head to ask Starrk what he wanted, but much to his chagrin, the man had walked away on his own again with his cellphone glued to his ear. Ichigo rolled his eyes and stalked off.

When it was his turn, Ichigo stepped up to the counter and said politely, "Two orders of vanilla latte please." The barista gave him a curt nod and turned around to pass the order to a co-worker. Meanwhile, Ichigo pulled out his wallet and was just sorting through the confusing assortment of coins when a voice piped up.

"I see you're feeling better."

Startled, Ichigo dropped his coins. The person who spoke to him - an Asian man with tanned skin and a bright red ponytail - bent down and picked them up for him. Ichigo gave him a grateful smile and pushed a messy pile of cash to the barista before turning back to the stranger. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" he asked in English, hoping that he wouldn't come off sounding rude.

The redhead's smile widened into a mischievous grin. "You really don't remember me?"

Ichigo absent-mindedly accepted his receipt and stepped away from the counter. He scratched the back of his head - a longtime habit of his - and struggled to connect the face to his memory bank. He squinted at the stranger again, who spread his hands and twirled around like a fashion model. Ichigo caught a glimpse of tattoos and -

_Tattoos._

There was _something_ about those tattoos - he seen them before…but where? Ichigo tapped on his forehead as if that would trigger his memory; something was naggingly familiar with this person, but for the life of him, he just couldn't put his finger on it. Was it someone he met at the dorm? One of Starrk's friends? Someone he met at the registration office?

"Woah, kid, guess you were more trashed than I thought," the stranger said. There was an odd glint in his eyes - it reminded Ichigo of a six-year-old who'd pulled a prank and was just itching for someone to discover it.

Then the man's words clicked, and Ichigo's eyes widened. "Did I meet you on Friday night?" he asked. This must be it! Maybe this man was someone he met at the bar, but he was too drunk to remember him.

Instead of replying, the stranger simply laughed. Ichigo opened his mouth to ask again, but the barista chose that very moment to yell out his order. He turned his head to acknowledge the barista; by the time he turned back again, the red-haired man was gone.

* * *

That night, as Ichigo tossed and turned and cursed at Starbucks caffeine, his mind wandered back to the mysterious redhead he'd met at the student centre. When he finally found Starrk, he'd asked Starrk about the man, thinking that perhaps it was one of Starrk's friends, but his roommate had shrugged and said that he didn't know anyone with red hair.

"Green, silver, blue, yellow - you name it, I know it," Starrk had said rather unhelpfully. "But red? Never seen one."

The more he thought about it, the more certain Ichigo felt that he'd seen the man before. This feeling - that the memory was _just_ beyond his grasp yet knowing was _right there_ \- grated on Ichigo's nerves, and he found himself getting angry. The man had laughed at him, so he obviously knew Ichigo and was amused that Ichigo didn't know him. Why did some people have to be so annoying? He could've just told him what he knew, but _no_ \- he'd just waltzed away while Ichigo wasn't paying attention. Just wonderful; another Starrk in the making.

Eventually, Ichigo's eyelid began to droop, but he was still thinking about that face - the tattoos on the high forehead, the blood-like, crimson hair, the narrow russet eyes, that voice…those hands, all over his body. There was something warm and wet on him, something soft; it felt good, so, so good that he just wanted to melt into the mattress. There was another voice - a soft, deep voice of a man, hushing him and whispering murmured words into his ear. He couldn't make out the words, he was confused now; where was he?

Then, those images faded away and all that was left was blissful darkness.

* * *

With one last shuddering moan, Renji rolled off of Shuuhei's body and collapsed onto his back, his skin damp with sweat. The sound of their ragged breathing seemed to make the silence in the room all of the more acute, and Renji was about to comment on it when Shuuhei suddenly laughed softly.

"What's so funny?" Renji asked, feeling like he'd missed out on a joke.

Shuuhei chuckled for a few more seconds, then he sighed. "Is it weird that I can't stop thinking about that kid?"

"That orange-haired kid? Ichigo?" Renji asked in amusement. "Oh yeah, did I tell you that he doesn't remember anything?"

"Seriously?" Shuuhei propped himself up on his elbows. His mouth twitched, betraying his failing effort at containing his laughter. "Wait, his name is _Ichigo?_ "

Renji arched an eyebrow. "I thought I said his name."

The older man rolled his eyes. "Do you honestly think I paid attention to what you were saying at the time?"

Renji scoffed. "Whatever," he muttered. "So...what, you've fallen in love now or something?"

"No," Shuuhei replied, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. "He was a good fuck."

"Pfft, he's alright." Renji laced his fingers behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. The ceiling was boring, his room was boring. Hell, _he_ was bored. Maybe Shuuhei was too, otherwise why would he mull over some snot-nosed kid who looked like he was barely old enough to drink? Granted, Ichigo was cute - hot, even, when he was all flushed and panting and moaning and needy - but after having to dress him up afterwards _and_ drop him off at a dorm like a fucking babysitter, Renji wasn't so sure he wanted anything to do with him again.

Shuuhei obviously wanted to, though. "I'm serious," he said. He reached over and ran his fingers through Renji's bed-tossed hair, slowly untangling the knots that had formed when his ponytail became undone.

Renji made a non-commital noise. He knew what Shuuhei was getting at - he wanted Renji to find Ichigo and fix something up. Renji couldn't imagine how he'd go about it. The boy didn't even remember him, and he didn't look like the kind who would consent to this kind of arrangement when he was sober.

Sure enough, Shuuhei started to tug on his hair, trying to get his attention. "C'mon, Ren. It should be easy for you to find him. You know where he lives."

"Yeah, I know 'cause you left me to drag his sorry ass home alone, asshole!" Renji grumbled and smacked Shuuhei's hand away.

Shuuhei laughed, and Renji immediately knew he was screwed. Shuuhei had used _that_ laugh - the throaty, sultry kind that he used only when he was in a seductive mood. It _always_ worked on Renji; his bones just dissolved whenever he heard that sound. And now Shuuhei had moved over and straddled Renji's hips, his hands caressing and kneading Renji's shoulders. The friction, the touches - Renji groaned. He was dead tired, but he couldn't help getting aroused again. Fuck, that evil bastard had skills that could make a lump of whip cream hard.

"Come on, Ren," Shuuhei breathed against Renji's cheek. "We'll share. You can go first this time. Show me what you can do. I wanna see you do him the way you do _me._ I want to hear him scream your name when he-"

"Alright alright!" Renji caved, his air of indifference shattered. "I'll...figure something out, happy?"

Shuuhei grinned, then he stuck his tongue out and slowly licked his lips, wetting them until they shone under the light. Renji blew out a shaky breath as he watched Shuuhei slide his own fingers into his mouth and suck on them, all the while keeping his eyes locked on Renji's. The bed dipped as Shuuhei reared up on his knees and lowered himself on Renji. Then, he leaned forward and traced his tongue along Renji's ear.

"Yeah, you do that."

* * *

Things were always easier said than done, and Renji was feeling it now. It had been two weeks since he agreed to "figure something out" about the situation with Kurosaki Ichigo, and he still had no idea how to approach it.

Maybe he could just walk up to the kid and try to be friendly, then casually invite him out for a drink and then - _Gah_ , that was too forward, he'd just come off as a creep and make Ichigo freak out.

Or he could try to find out more about Ichigo, slowly weasel his way into his social circle and build up some kind of trust and friendship. But this would take time - a lot of it - and Renji didn't think Shuuhei could wait that long.

 _Or_ , he could arrange some sort of meeting between Shuuhei and Ichigo and let Shuuhei do the dirty work himself.

Whichever option it was, it all boiled down to one problem - Renji had no good reason to approach the kid. They had different majors, took different classes; there was just no "natural" way to meet Ichigo without coming off as a weirdo, especially since he'd already sort of established that "weird, mysterious stranger" impression by going up to Ichigo at Starbucks.

Renji hesitated. Perhaps... _perhaps_ he could use that to his advantage. He had the upper hand here: Ichigo wanted to know what happened on Friday night, and Renji had the information. Maybe he could use that as bait to approach the kid, arouse his interest, lure him out. He still had no idea how to breach _that_ subject, though, but he could think about that later. First things first, he needed _some_ way to get near Ichigo.

He was still pondering when he should put his plan into action when he unintentionally hit the jackpot. That was how things usually worked, wasn't it? Things tend to happen when you least expect it.

Later that week, Renji was minding his own business, chatting casually with the bartender at The Academy when he just so happened to sweep his eyes across the room. Just checking out the scenery, see if there were any easy picks that night. He was feeling antsy, restless, but he didn't feel like contacting Shuuhei because he didn't want to be nagged. The guy had already called him twice about Ichigo, Renji could use some peace and quiet now.

Then his eyes caught a flash of orange. He squinted - Ichigo was standing near the wall on the far side of the room. He wasn't alone, though. It looked like he was there with about a handful of friends.

Renji couldn't stop staring. How could he? The kid was wearing a grey long-sleeved collared shirt that fit him perfectly, highlighting his angular shoulders and slim torso. His dark-colored jeans sat low on his hips in a tasteful, fashionable way. His look was low-key - put-together yet subtle, he didn't look like he'd tried too hard to look like this. Somehow this outfit made him look more mature - in a good way, not at all like the vulnerable kid that he'd looked like the first time Renji met him. He didn't look cute now, he looked downright _hot_.

* * *

Ichigo shifted his weight as he tried to look comfortable amongst Starrk's friends. He was finding it a challenge. He didn't fit in _at all._ There was this blond-haired, tough-looking chick who had curves that Ichigo'd had only ever seen on magazine covers before; and then there was this emo-looking guy with complexion so pale that made him look perpetually sick. There were two other men - one with silver hair and had slits for eyes, while the other had the most attention-grabbing electric blue hair that Ichigo had ever seen. And there was Starrk, of course.

They were much older than Ichigo, and they talked about things that Ichigo didn't care about. Things like car racing, football games, booze, women. But Ichigo wanted to be polite, so he stood there and tried to look like he was participating by nodding and smiling at the appropriate moments. The music at the nightclub was just as bad as he remembered it, the air still as thick with the combination of sweat and alcohol.

He'd begun to remember more about that Friday night. About how he had gotten separated from Starrk, how he'd ended up going to the bar alone. He even remembered the redhead now. He'd met him at the bar, spoken to him in Japanese. He went to the same university. He was older, from a big city in Japan.

What he still couldn't remember, though, was what happened after that. He could barely recall the content of their conversation; just little snippets here and there. He was beginning to think that the redhead was the one who dropped him back at the dorm. He should thank the guy, then, but he hadn't seen him since that one time at the student centre. There were no clues that he could use to find him except for his appearance. He couldn't imagine going around asking people, "Have you seen a guy with long red hair? Has tattoos on his forehead, tall, pretty buff..."

The thought made him laugh inside, and that was when he caught the unmistakable head of red hair across the room. There, at the bar, was the very man he'd just been thinking about. He was staring right at him, too, with a smirk on his face and a glass of margarita in his right hand. Ichigo blinked and looked around, unsure if the guy was _really_ looking at him. His doubts evaporated when the redhead raised his glass in the air and grinned.

"Hey, guys," Ichigo said, suddenly excited. "I'm going to head to the bar for a bit, okay? Can you call my cell when you guys are leaving?"

His only response was a dismissive wave from Starrk. Ichigo rolled his eyes and walked off, heading straight for the mysterious stranger, who was still looking at him with a smile.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

"Hi," Ichigo said. He stood in front of the redhead, feeling slightly uncomfortable. But he just had to get to the bottom of it. "May I join you?"

The man gestured to the empty bar stool next to him and nodded.

Ichigo hopped on it and ordered a light cocktail; he didn't want to risk getting trashed again. He didn't exactly miss the after effects of his last escapade, which brought him to the reason he was now sitting next to a complete stranger. When the drink arrived, he sipped slowly, the gears in his mind churning for a way to approach the subject.

The whole time, the red-haired man just sat next to him in silence, but Ichigo could feel his gaze on him.

Finally, Ichigo decided to go for it. "I met you here once," he began. He left his sentence open and looked up at the man.

The corners of the man's mouth curled up into a sly smile. "Maybe," he said.

Ichigo suppressed his anger, which was beginning to bubble in his chest. The fucker was obviously playing with him.

"I know we've met, even though I don't remember much of it," Ichigo insisted. He saw the stranger's grin widen. "I'm Kurosaki Ichigo, maybe that'll help jog your memory," he added, unable to completely hide his sarcasm.

The man held up his glass and saluted Ichigo. "Abarai Renji," he said.

Ah, so that was the name that he'd been trying to remember. Ichigo relaxed slightly, feeling relieved that he was finally on the right track.

"Yes, we have met," Renji said, his eyes never leaving Ichigo's.

Ichigo felt a tingle down his spine. He disliked how Renji was toying with him, but he could not deny that the man was good-looking in an exotic kind of way. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Renji's gaze even if he wanted to.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Ichigo asked. When Renji cocked an eyebrow, he quickly added, "After we met, I meant. I was…" He swallowed, feeling more than a little embarrassed. "I was, uh, too drunk to remember."

Renji chuckled softly; Ichigo could sense the hint of amusement in it, and it pissed him off. He was about to snap at Renji when the man suddenly spoke.

"This place is kind of loud to have a lengthy conversation, don't you think?"

It was obviously a rhetorical question, and Renji was already sliding off his stool and pushing his empty glass towards the bartender. Ichigo pursed his lips, torn between caution and curiosity. What was that phrase again?

_Never trust a stranger._

That was it, or something along those lines. His mother had said that to him more times than he could remember. It was common sense; he didn't know Renji, the man was bordering on creepy, he seemed to like playing mind games. He was the epitome of _trouble_. There was no doubt what Ichigo should do.

He slid off the bar stool and followed Renji towards the exit.

* * *

It was easier than he thought, Renji mused. Almost _too_ easy; it was like the kid was asking for it. He held the door open for Ichigo and watched the boy step into his apartment. His eyes lingered on the kid's ass. The memory on that Friday night resurfaced, and Renji was beginning to think that it won't be long before the same thing happened . He was sure of it. And if Shuuhei was as persuasive as he always was, Ichigo won't be the floppy puppet that he was last time.

He gestured for Ichigo to make himself comfortable on the couch, then he slipped into his bedroom and flipped his cell phone open.

"He's here," he said simply when Shuuhei answered the call. His friend didn't even bother to reply; all Renji heard was a throaty chuckle, and then the line went dead.

Renji did a quick mental calculation - it would take Shuuhei fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to get here. In the meantime, he should entertain their guest. He went back into the living room to check on Ichigo.

The boy was sitting on the couch, his body leaning forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. He looked tense, uncomfortable. His cheeks were lightly flushed from the cocktail he had at the bar, but he was nowhere near drunk.

"You want something to drink?" Renji asked.

Ichigo turned to him and shook his head. Renji shrugged and went over to take a seat on the other couch, which was placed at a ninety degrees angle from the one Ichigo was sitting on.

"So," Ichigo said.

"So," Renji echoed. He leaned back and draped his arms across the top of the couch, then brought up one of his legs to cross it at the ankle over the other knee - the perfect picture of nonchalance.

Ichigo couldn't stand it anymore. "Stop being an asshole," he snapped. "And just tell me what the fuck happened."

Then came three loud, solid knocks on Renji's front door.

Renji sprang up and answered the door, while Ichigo jumped visibly in his seat, startled.

"Oh, hello," Shuuhei stepped in and held up a six-pack of beer. He flashed a good-natured grin at the orange-haired kid. "My bad, I didn't know you had company, Ren." He then gave Renji a wink, purposely turning his head away from Ichigo's field of sight.

Renji rolled his eyes; sometimes Shuuhei could be such an ass. Ichigo looked at Shuuhei and gave him a polite, uncertain smile. There was no sign of recognition in his caramel-brown eyes.

"Ichigo, this is Shuuhei, an old friend of mine," Renji introduced. Ichigo stood up and shook Shuuhei's hand, then sat back down, scooting to the side to make space for the older man. When his eyes met Renji's, Renji could see a hint of frustration in them. "Shuuhei, this is Ichigo, a new friend I made just recently. Met him at The Academy."

Shuuhei placed the beer on the coffee table and sat down next to Ichigo. "Ah, that's my favorite club," he said. "I hope Renji's being nice to you, Ichigo."

Renji saw Ichigo's features darken slightly, but then it was gone in a blink of an eye, and the teen chuckled a little awkwardly. "We've just been, uh, chatting."

"Oh really? 'Bout what?" Shuuhei asked, sounding genuinely interested.

Ichigo shifted in his seat. "Just…stuff."

Shuuhei raised an eyebrow and turned to Renji. Renji could see the unspoken question in his friend's eyes, and he responded with a shrug of his shoulders and a subtle shake of his head. Shuuhei frowned, looking a little annoyed, then he turned back and casually reached for the pack of beer. He took out three bottles and pushed one towards Ichigo.

Ichigo looked like he was going to refuse, but when Renji and Shuuhei both popped their bottles open and began to drink, the teen looked conflicted. Renji guessed that he was worried that he'd seem rude if he didn't join in, but could also see that Ichigo didn't want to drink. He glanced at Shuuhei.

"No worries, I'll get you something else. Coke, maybe?" Shuuhei offered.

"Sure," Ichigo replied, looking more than a little relieved.

Renji was surprised. To be honest, he had no idea what Shuuhei had in mind - was he going to simply proposition Ichigo like this? Or did he have a more subtle approach planned? Shuuhei's face was mask-like now, Renji couldn't read him at all.

Shuuhei disappeared behind the small doorway that separated the living room and the kitchen. Renji caught Ichigo's gaze for a moment.

"Just relax for a while," Renji said, noting the tension in Ichigo's shoulders. "We can chat after having some refreshments, yeah?" He wasn't sure what else to say - he didn't want to interfere with whatever plan that Shuuhei might have. To be honest, he felt a little offended that Shuuhei didn't let him in on it.

Shuuhei reappeared and placed a glass of iced Coke in front of Ichigo.

"Thanks."

Shuuhei sank back on the couch and took a swig of his beer. He gave Renji a meaningful look, but Renji didn't understand it. Something had been set in gear, but he was in the dark, and he couldn't well ask with Ichigo sitting right there. The next fifteen minutes didn't yield any clues; Shuuhei just chatted about random stuff, asking Ichigo about school, his family, anything but what had brought him to Renji's apartment in the first place. Renji was seriously confused now.

Then, about twenty minutes into Shuuhei's visit, Renji started to notice something strange. The kid looked tired, his eyes drooping and reopening as if he was having trouble keeping himself awake. He had leaned back against the couch about ten minutes ago, and now his head kept sliding to the side.

"You okay, Ichigo?" Renji asked, getting up on his feet.

"Shh." Shuuhei held up a finger against his lips. Renji saw a spark in his friend's slate-grey eyes - something like mischief, but there was also something in there that Renji didn't like. He couldn't put his finger on what was it, but the hair on the back on his neck prickled, making him uncomfortable. He narrowed his eyes and stared at Ichigo. The boy looked _ill_.

"What the fuck's going on, Shuu?" Renji didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.

Ichigo's head fell to the side again, and this time he didn't straighten back up. He just sat there, slumped on the couch as if he'd fallen asleep.

"Shh," Shuuhei repeated, then he slowly inched closer to Ichigo and held a hand up. He waved it in front of Ichigo's face. The teen's eyes were almost completely closed. He looked barely conscious, and didn't respond to Shuuhei.

Renji's inner alarm bells were screeching in his ears now. Something was going on, Shuuhei had done _something_.

"What did you do?" he demanded, moving closer to Ichigo. His heart was beginning to hammer in his chest; even if Ichigo _really_ was tired, he wouldn't look like that.

Shuuhei grinned and finally looked up. He pulled out a small packet from his pocket and threw it on the coffee table towards Renji.

Renji immediately sucked in a sharp breath.

"What the fuck?" He snatched up the baggie and stared at the white pills inside, his eyes wide in disbelief. "What the fuck, man! Is this really necessary?"

Shuuhei shrugged, as if drugging an unsuspecting teenager was all in a day's work. "He wouldn't say yes if we ask him," he said simply. "I can tell."

Renji pulled his lips back in a snarl. "Then we send him back and move on!" he said, then he looked at Ichigo again. The boy's eyes were now closed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. "Damn it, Shuu!" Renji hissed, throwing the packet on the floor.

Shuuhei slipped his t-shirt over his head and reached for Ichigo. "He's an adult, Ren. He willingly came back with a stranger, he should know what would happen," he said. He pushed the unconscious boy onto his back and climbed over him, straddling his hips. The couch was narrow; when it shifted from Shuuhei's movements, one of Ichigo's hands slid off the side and hung down limply, his fingers grazing the carpet.

"Fuck, Shuu," Renji said in a sharp whisper. "This is fucking _rape_."

His friend ignored him and bent down. He pressed his lips roughly against Ichigo's and pried the boy's mouth open. Ichigo stirred slightly at the contact, but immediately became still again. Shuuhei smiled and began to unbutton the boy's shirt.

"Shuu!" Renji hissed. He reached out to grab his friend, but Shuuhei was faster. His hand shot up and gripped Renji's wrist with such force that the redhead winced.

"Have you forgotten, Ren?" Shuuhei asked, the corner of his lips curled up in a smirk that looked anything but friendly. "Sophomore year, Ren. May twelfth."

Renji froze, his hand suddenly limp in Shuuhei's fist. His mouth went dry. "Shit, Shuu, you can't do this."

Shuuhei narrowed his eyes. "Oh yes, Ren. I can." Then he let go of Renji's wrist and continued to unbutton Ichigo's shirt.

The shirt slowly fell open, revealing the pale, flat torso underneath. The boy stirred again, but his eyes remained closed. Shuuhei bent down and kissed the pink, slightly parted lips, then he slowly dragged his tongue along the boy's jawline, then down the neck, over the collarbones, the chest, where he stopped to roll his tongue over a nipple. Ichigo made a small sound and turned his head slightly.

"Shuu," Renji croaked. Under any other circumstances, this sight would be a big turn-on. But this was so many levels of _wrong_ that he just wanted to throw up. Yet, he couldn't look away. It was like watching a horror movie - you _know_ the character was going to die if she steps into the dark room, but you can't help watching anyway.

When Shuuhei yanked the boy's pants to his knees, Renji's stopped breathing. His throat constricted as though he was being strangled. He never knew that his friend had this side in him. He thought he was very close to Shuuhei, yet the Shuuhei in front of him now was a complete stranger. He wanted to pull Shuuhei off of the boy, call the police, just bloody do _something_ \- anything - but he couldn't. He had too much to lose, and Shuuhei knew that.

So he watched numbly. Ichigo groaned softly when Shuuhei entered him, but other than that, he didn't move. His eyes were still closed. If Renji pretended hard enough, if he blocked out Shuuhei's voice, he could convince himself that the boy was just asleep and that this was all a nightmare, for _both_ of them.

* * *

His body swayed. His shoulders - someone was holding him by the shoulders and shaking him. But he didn't want to get up. He was warm and comfortable here.

"Kurosaki, get up," a voice said. It sounded familiar, he'd heard it before. "Oi, wake up, kid."

Reluctantly, Ichigo cracked his eyes open. The face in front of him went in and out of focus for a few seconds, and then it sharpened and became Starrk. The older man had a frown on his face, but as soon as he saw Ichigo open his eyes, he perked up and smiled.

"Hey," Starrk said softly.

Ichigo blinked. Why did Starrk look so worried? He tried to sit up, only to gasp and fall back onto the bed. It felt like he'd left his brain and stomach behind somewhere. He looked at his roommate, suddenly feeling confused and afraid.

"I found you outside the hall," Starrk said. "What happened, Kurosaki?"

"I…" Ichigo tried. His voice came out dry and hoarse, like it hadn't been used for a long time.

"I called your cell before leaving the club last night, but you didn't pick up," Starrk said, his voice tight with concern. "I couldn't find you, so I thought maybe you've left on your own. But you never came back, I was starting to get worried, then you turn up suddenly this morning, sleeping on the porch…what the hell?"

Ichigo's head was still swimming, but some of Starrk's words registered. That was the longest sentence he'd ever heard Starrk say, the first time he'd seen an actual _expression_ on the man's face besides lazy indifference. He wanted to explain, but then it occurred to him that he didn't know what to say - how was he supposed to explain about something he didn't know?

"I d-don't..." Ichigo stuttered, trying his best to speak around a tongue that seemed too big for his mouth. He felt the familiar feeling of panic rising his chest. This was exactly like that Friday night - had he gone and gotten himself drunk again? He remembered talking to Renji and following the guy back to his apartment. There was someone else, Renji's friend or something, and they had talked for a bit. There was beer - he remembered Renji and that guy drinking, whatever his name was, but he thought he hadn't. Or had he? Did he end up drinking anyway?

"Rest," Starrk said, his deep voice cutting through Ichigo's confused thoughts. "I just wanted to make sure that you're still alive. But now that you are, you should go back to sleep, get the booze out of your system."

Ichigo looked up at his roommate gratefully, who was smiling even though his brows were still drawn. All of a sudden he felt like a little kid, and that Starrk was his elder brother, and then he realized that that was probably what Starrk felt too. It was a nice feeling, and Ichigo couldn't help but smile back, even though the movement rang his head like a fucking gong.

The last thing in his mind before he slipped back under was that he would never, _ever_ drink again.

* * *

**To be continued...**

**I know. Shuuhei drew the short straw. Again. I swear, I** **_really_ ** **like him, but somehow he seemed more like the kind who would, you know, be secretly** **_evil_ ** **. More than Renji could anyway.**

**So, Shuuhei lovers, please don't kill me. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Remember, things will only get worse before it gets better.**


	4. Chapter 4

Ichigo stared at his reflection in the full length mirror. He knew that no matter how many times he blinked, he would still see the same image, but he kept blinking anyway. There were some marks on his hips - light bruises that he'd found while trying to figure out why he felt sore there. They were barely visible, and he wouldn't have noticed them if he hadn't been searching for them. He didn't know what to think. Did he hit himself against a table? The door frame?

He was still trying to recall what happened two nights ago. This hangover seemed worse than the last one, or at least it seemed that way, because he hadn't been able to get out of bed until a few hours ago. Even now he was still feeling a little groggy, but he had to get up. He had class tomorrow, and he refused to let a hangover get in the way of his studies. If he slept well tonight, he should be fully recovered tomorrow. At least, he hoped he would be.

Ichigo dug out a clean t-shirt from his closet and pulled it over his head, then he slipped on a pair of clean boxers. He had just showered, so he felt relatively fresh. Now, he needed to sit down and go over what happened the other night. He sighed and plopped down on the edge of his bed and rubbed his face. So far, he'd established that the last thing he remembered was sitting in Renji's living room, chatting with him and another man. But beyond that, it was a blank slate. It was as if someone stole a portion of his brain, or like his mind was a skipped tape. He remembered _not_ wanting to drink, but he couldn't be sure if he'd actually drunk or not.

What's for certain was that the last person he saw was Renji. Again. Given the circumstances, that would mean that Renji must've dropped him back to his dorm again. Ichigo wasn't sure how he felt about that - for some reason he felt uneasy about the man. From the interaction he did remember, Renji was a borderline asshole. But on the other hand, the man had been nice enough to bring him back here. That had got to count for something, right?

Ichigo sighed, feeling pissed at himself. He had set out to solve one mystery, only to dive into another one. This time, he didn't care _how_ he was going to do it, but he was going to find the redhead and force the truth out of him. And this time, Ichigo would make sure that no alcohol, not even a single drop, would be involved.

* * *

Renji sat at the table across from the Burger King counter in the student union, his food and books spread out in front of him, but he couldn't concentrate on either. It had been nearly a week now, and he still hadn't been able to calm down completely. He just knew he would never be able to sit in that couch again, the one where Shuuhei had raped that orange-haired kid.

He didn't know whether to be more freaked out about witnessing his friend have his way with an unconscious man or about how calm Shuuhei had been during the ordeal. Shuuhei had purposely done it slowly, carefully, as though he was making love to a fragile virgin, but Renji knew that he only did it to reduce the signs of trauma and damage on the kid's body. That, and the fact that Shuuhei had come prepared with drugs, made him feel sick.

This was all his fault. If he hadn't brought Ichigo back to his apartment, the kid wouldn't have been violated like this. But he seriously hadn't thought that Shuuhei would resort to force in the end. He thought that they were going to talk to Ichigo, arrange something - something _consensual_ , damn it! It's not like they hadn't done it before. He didn't understand why Shuuhei was so fixated on this boy, so much so that he'd stoop so low. He knew that the first time they had sex with the kid was morally questionable, given that Ichigo was so drunk, but what happened this weekend was a whole other level of wrong.

And more than anything, Renji was afraid. What if Ichigo thought that _he_ was the one who did it? What if he pointed him out to the police? He would get thrown into jail, and he couldn't let that happen. That was the whole reason why he didn't stop Shuuhei in the first place - he couldn't afford to get into trouble with the law, not here, not now.

This train of thought made him nervous and made his mouth go dry. He was just about to reach for his Coke when he felt someone standing in front of him. He looked up and, for a second, thought that he would get a heart attack.

"You," Ichigo said, staring down at Renji with his arms crossed over his chest.

Renji swallowed, silent simply because he was at a loss for words. He was confused; why was Ichigo so calm? He wore a scowl on his face, but he wasn't screaming and calling the cops like Renji would expect him to do.

"Hi," Renji finally replied after a stretch of silence.

Ichigo grabbed the back of one of the plastic chairs across from Renji and pulled it back, then he sat down on it. "I assume you took me home from your apartment that night," he said.

Too surprised to think, Renji blurted, "Yeah."

Ichigo looked at him with narrowed eyes for a little while before he relaxed his brows and said, "Thanks."

Renji's eyes were close to falling out from their sockets by now. Ichigo was _thanking_ him? Did the boy not know what had happened to him? Then, it finally occurred to him - one of the symptoms of the drug that Shuuhei had used was anterograde amnesia. In other words, the person would not remember events that he experienced under the influence of the drug. Renji's eyes widened as he continued to gape at Ichigo. Could it be? Could it be that Ichigo didn't remember anything? At all?

"You're welcome," Renji croaked even as his mind was still processing the implication of this turn of events. This was good news for him. Well, good news for him _and_ Shuuhei, but right now he didn't give a fuck about Shuuhei. The guy could go to hell for all he cared.

Now that Renji had more time to observe the boy, he noticed that Ichigo didn't look completely fine. His skin seemed sallower than Renji remembered, and there were faint dark circles under his eyes. It made him look older, slightly haggard, like he hadn't been sleeping well.

Before he could stop himself, Renji asked, "How're you feeling?"

"Like I got run over by a truck," Ichigo said, his voice gruff but sounding a little sheepish. "That was one hell of a hangover."

Renji nodded numbly. A hangover. So that's what Ichigo thought it was. That was perfect. Renji wasn't going to correct him any time soon - it was in everyone's best interest. He spaced out briefly, his mind pre-occupied with the good news, before he realized that Ichigo was talking to him.

"I'm glad I ran into you," Ichigo was saying. "I was worried that I won't be able to find you again. I guess I could stake out at The Academy but I'd rather not go near alcohol for a while, you know?"

Renji nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

Ichigo ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the food on the table. "I guess I'll have to buy you a meal next time, since you've already got food."

"What? What for?" Renji asked, frowning from confusion.

"I dunno, a token of thanks for taking me home, I guess?" Ichigo said, looking a little embarrassed. "This time, you're gonna have to tell me what happened on both nights, okay?"

Renji didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The kid was just too damn innocent for his own good. He must've stared at Ichigo for too long because the boy suddenly waved his hand in front of Renji's face.

"What?" Renji blinked dumbly.

Ichigo scowled. "I said, I'm going to need your number."

Renji hesitated for a few seconds. Truth be told, he didn't want to have _anything_ to do with Ichigo anymore. This had been a close call - what if Ichigo recalled more after seeing him a few more times? He couldn't have that. But, as he looked at the boy's warm, caramel-hued eyes, his resolve faltered. Cursing at himself inwardly, Renji tore off a small piece of paper from his notebook and scribbled his name and cell phone number on it.

Ichigo pulled out his own cell phone and dialed the number. Renji's phone immediately began to screech in his back pocket.

"Cool," Ichigo said, eyes glued to the screen of his phone while he added Renji as a contact in his address book.

In the meantime, Renji fought the urge to massage his temples. This wasn't how he imagined things would go. He could barely look Ichigo in the eyes right now, much less sit through an actual meal with him. He opened his mouth to politely decline the offer, but at that moment Ichigo's cell phone rang, and he jumped up to answer it. Then, nodding despite the fact that the person on the line would not be able to see him, Ichigo mumbled something into the phone and jogged off, but not before throwing a small wave in Renji's direction.

Renji stared at his phone, where Ichigo's number was displayed clearly as a missed call, and wondered how he'd managed to get himself into this mess. All he could hope for now was that Ichigo's memory remained this way.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late," Ichigo huffed as he slid into his seat next to Renji.

Renji shot him a glare and grumbled, "You could at least call me. I felt like an idiot sitting here alone."

They were sitting in one of theaters in the cinema closest to campus, having agreed to catch the Bruce Willis flick that just came out together. As the room began to darken, Ichigo let out a contented sigh and slouched lower in his seat. Renji glanced at the younger man and couldn't help wondering again how things had changed so drastically over the last six months.

The lunch that Ichigo had treated him to had gone surprisingly well. Aside from the fact that Renji had to make up some rather vague stories about getting drunk with Ichigo, it wasn't as awkward as Renji had expected. It turned out that the two of them shared a lot in common - they were fans of the same soccer team, both were in track and field back in high school, shared similar tastes in music. They didn't become instant best friends, but Renji found it easy to get along with Ichigo. In the beginning, he felt really uncomfortable and guilty every time he saw Ichigo, but lately things had gotten better. They'd unconsciously fallen into the habit of meeting up at the student union for lunch, sometimes for dinner, then they started hanging out on weekends.

Like now, for instance. Next to him, Ichigo burst out into laughter at some joke in the dialogue that Renji didn't get. The boy sounded so genuinely happy and carefree that Renji couldn't help but smile and feel sad and angry all at the same time. He was glad that Ichigo didn't know what Shuuhei had done to him, but that didn't make Renji forget what he'd witnessed. He still gritted his teeth every time he thought of his former friend. Shuuhei hadn't contacted him since that night, and Renji hoped that he would never see the man again.

As Bruce Willis let loose another string of macho, overdramatic dialogue on the big screen, Ichigo laughed again. Shaking his head at the younger man's child-like behavior, Renji slowly let his mind return to the movie.

The movie wasn't as great as Renji had expected. It was alright, bloody and violent like your average action movie, but it was too predictable for his taste. Ichigo was ecstatic, though, and he kept repeating how he was going to email his friends in Japan to recommend this movie to them as they walked from the down town area back to campus. Renji lived off campus, but Ichigo's dormitory was kind of on the way to his apartment, so they usually walked there together before parting ways.

Ichigo was tapping furiously on his smart phone when Renji's phone vibrated in his pocket. Noting that he'd forgotten to turn the ringer back on after the movie, Renji automatically flipped the switch on the side of the phone, then his heart skipped a beat when he finally saw the caller ID. By reflex, he declined the call and stuffed his phone back into his pocket, his stomach twisting with a mixture of anger and disgust. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't realize that he'd spaced out until Ichigo suddenly smacked the back of his head.

"Hey!" Renji yelped in protest, rubbing his head with a scowl.

"What are you, constipated?" Ichigo teased.

Renji rolled his eyes. Before he could retort, his phone went off again, the obnoxiously loud ring tone cutting through the silence of the evening. Cringing, he reached into his pocket and quickly pressed a button to silence the ring tone. It continued to vibrate in his pocket, though, until the call finally went to his voicemail and stopped.

Ichigo shot him a curious look but didn't comment, and Renji was secretly relieved. Then, his phone screeched again. He let out a frustrated grunt and declined the call once more.

"Avoiding somebody?" Ichigo asked cautiously.

"You can say that," Renji muttered.

Immediately after he spoke, his phone rang again. This time, he stared at the phone like he wanted to swallow it whole. He had half the mind to throw his phone across the lawn and watch it shatter on the ground, but the logical part of his brain held him back. Why? _Why_ did this have to happen right when things were getting better?

"I'm sorry, Ichigo, can you walk back yourself? I gotta take this," Renji said, his voice coming out a little stiffer than he liked.

As Ichigo walked away, Renji finally tapped on the Accept button and brought the phone to his ear.

"You're not trying to run away from me, are you?" Shuuhei sounded amused.

"Fuck you," Renji snapped. "I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore. Don't ever call me again."

"Aww," Shuuhei said mockingly. "But I missed ya." The line went quiet for a bit safe for the man's low chuckles, then Shuuhei continued, "I miss that kid too."

Renji sucked in a deep breath. He knew immediately why Shuuhei had called. "No," he said, his fingers tightening unconsciously around the phone.

"Are you sure?" Shuuhei asked, his voice suddenly dropping an octave lower.

Renji bit his lip, then replied in a firmer tone, "Yes."

Shuuhei clucked. "You know," he said, a hint of amusement creeping back into his tone. "I heard from somewhere that the Kuchiki clan had been _waiting_ for a chance to get rid of a certain stray…" He let his sentence trail off, knowing full well what it would do to the redhead.

Renji's blood ran cold at the not-so-thinly veiled threat. "Fuck you," he breathed into the phone. He swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat. He should've known that Shuuhei would use that against him again. Ichigo's bright, smiling eyes came into his mind, and he balled his free hand into a fist.

Over the line, Shuuhei was chuckling. "You wish," he said. When Renji didn't reply, he asked softly, "So, what will it be, Renji?"

Renji's breath hitched. A pair of sharp grey eyes appeared unbidden in his mind, the gaze holding a generous dose of disdain. Even though it was just his imagination, Renji couldn't stop the shudder that coursed through his body. He bit his lip in frustration, so distracted that he didn't even feel the sting when his skin broke. As Shuuhei began to hum on his end, Renji hung his head.

"Friday. Bricktop. Ten o'clock."

* * *

Ichigo looked around the Jazz club, taking in the sights and smells, and not to mention the light, relaxing melody floating around them. This place was so much classier than The Academy. There were no sweaty, writhing bodies here, no offending whiffs of weed, no mind-jarring roar of music that threatened to make his ears bleed.

"I wonder if Starrk knows about this place," Ichigo wondered out loud.

Renji shrugged. He knew that Starrk was Ichigo's roommate, but he had only gotten fleeting glimpses of the older man so far. Most of the time, the man was either not in the room, or, if he was in the room, nestled in his sheets sleeping. Renji was jittery, his heart and brain racing at a hundred miles per hour. To be honest, he was surprised that Ichigo hadn't noticed his odd behavior yet.

Renji glanced at his watch - nine forty.

Twenty minutes. He still had twenty minutes to change his mind. He had never felt so torn in his life. Tonight was a turning point; whether it was be for him or Ichigo depended on what he would do within this twenty minutes. He could still bail, take Ichigo home, but every time he tried to make himself stand up, his heart would seize up, and his resolve would crumble.

In the meantime, Ichigo was oblivious to his friend's inner turmoil. The music was getting really good, the live band had just launched into a new piece, and all his attention was on the middle-aged female vocalist, who sounded like she belonged in a major recording studio instead of a small Jazz bar like Bricktop.

Nine fifty.

Renji was beginning to sweat. His palms were cold and clammy, his mouth dry. He wondered if he would end up passing out before ten o'clock. Maybe that would solve everyone's problem. If he collapsed now, maybe the ambulance and all the fuss would cut the night short and-

A hand landed on his shoulder from behind. Renji froze, then his eyes slid closed. He recognized that touch even through his jacket.

"What a coincidence!" Even if he didn't recognize the hand, Shuuhei's voice was unmistakable.

Renji blew out a shaky breath and opened his eyes.

Ichigo was looking at Shuuhei with a polite smile. Renji thought he caught a slight frown on the boy's face, but he couldn't be sure in this dim, supposedly-romantic lighting.

After taking a few more deep breaths, Renji finally found his voice to say, "Ichigo, this is my friend Shuuhei. Shuuhei, this is Ichigo."

At the mention of Shuuhei's name, Ichigo's eyes widened slightly. "I've met you before!" he said, pointing a finger at Shuuhei.

The dark-haired man grinned and offered his hand to Ichigo. "Hello! Glad to hear that you remember me! How have you been?"

As Renji watched the two of them chat, he closed his eyes again and buried his face in his palms. Here he was, about to betray someone who obviously trusted him. He heard Ichigo laugh at something Shuuhei said, and the laughter tore at his heart. Ichigo always sounded younger when he was happy. Renji breathed through his mouth, making his already-dry throat hurt even more.

He couldn't do this.

Renji looked up to tell Ichigo that they should leave, only to see that Ichigo wasn't at the table.

Shuuhei smiled at him, and Renji shuddered at the coldness in the man's eyes. "Our little friend went to the restroom," Shuuhei said.

Renji began to stand up, but Shuuhei immediately grabbed his wrist. "Where are you going?"

"What, I can't pee now?" Renji asked darkly.

Shuuhei chuckled. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he said, laughing. "It's too late, Ren." He opened his palm and showed the redhead a small, empty plastic baggie, then he raised his eyebrows and gestured to the glass of iced Coke at Ichigo's spot.

Renji groaned. _Not again_.

Shuuhei leaned forward and whispered in Renji's ear, "I'm sure the Kuchiki clan wouldn't want to know about…"

Renji was so frustrated that he wanted to flip the table over, but all he could do was make a choking sound in his throat and tighten his fists. Then, Shuuhei let go of him abruptly, and Ichigo slid back into his chair. Renji straightened up just in time to see Ichigo bring his glass to his lips and finish his drink.

* * *

Renji held Ichigo's hand tightly as the boy lay motionless in his lap, his body swaying occasionally when Shuuhei drove over a bump. Renji felt like crying, but his eyes remained dry. They were on the way to Shuuhei's house. Unlike Renji, he lived in a nice, decent-sized single family home.

This time, it had taken only ten minutes for the drug to hit Ichigo. As soon as his body began to lean towards Renji, Shuuhei had gripped his arm and pulled him to his feet. The only reason Renji stayed with Ichigo was to make sure that he would be safely returned to his dorm. Now, as Renji looked down at Ichigo's closed eyes, he wanted to laugh at the irony. Not too long ago, _he_ had been the one to take advantage of the boy, bringing him home when he was pissed drunk. How the tides had turned.

The car finally stopped, and before Renji knew it, the door was yanked open, and Shuuhei stuck his head in. "Ready to take sleeping beauty upstairs?"

Renji gritted his teeth and stepped out of the car. Between the two of them, they managed to carry the unconscious young man from the car to Shuuhei's bedroom, where he was dumped unceremoniously onto the King sized bed. Ichigo stirred weakly as Shuuhei rolled him onto his back, but his eyes remained closed.

"Why don't you take me instead?" Renji whispered, grabbing hold of Shuuhei's arm. "You can do anything. Anything you want, even the things that I used to refuse."

Shuuhei stared at him for a few seconds, and then slowly peeled his fingers off of his bicep. "But I don't want to fuck you," he said coldly. He went to a cupboard and pulled a drawer open.

Renji clenched his jaw as he recognized the array of items inside. He'd been in this very room before, many times. He knew exactly what was stored in that drawer. He watched numbly as Shuuhei pulled out a pair of handcuffs, followed by a piece of scarf. Renji's stomach sank.

Shuuhei padded over to his bed. He pulled Ichigo's arms above his head and cuffed the wrists together, then he gently nudged Ichigo's lips apart and tied the scarf around the boy's head, tucking part of the cloth inside his mouth to form a light gag. Satisfied with his handiwork, Shuuhei began to undress.

Renji staggered backwards until his back pressed against the wall. He didn't want to watch this, but he couldn't _not_ watch. He had to make sure that Shuuhei didn't hurt Ichigo. Once again, he was struck by the irony of it all. He was the one who handed Ichigo over to Shuuhei in a silver platter, yet here he was, wanting to make sure that the boy would be safe. It didn't make sense at all.

Ichigo's first muffled moan nearly made Renji's knees buckle. Unlike before, Shuuhei didn't seem to care if he left any marks on the boy's body this time.

"Don't hurt him," Renji croaked, feeling bile rise in his throat. "Please."

Shuuhei looked at him and laughed. "You were the one who introduced him to me, remember?" Then, to spite the redhead, he drove himself deeper into the boy and grinned when Renji paled.

"It's going to be a long night, Ren," Shuuhei said almost soothingly. "Make yourself comfortable."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

Renji sighed into his palms as he sat in a chair next to Ichigo's bed. He'd lost track of time, but he guessed that it was now close to four in the morning. Ichigo was fast asleep, curled so tightly under the covers that only a small tuft of his orange hair was visible.

For the past few hours, Renji had been torn between sobbing in relief and shivering in disgust, and in the end had settled for a mixture of both. Last night, when he finally realized that he couldn't do anything to stop Shuuhei, he had fallen to his knees and begged the man not to hurt the boy. It felt surreal, like he was negotiating with the devil for a lighter sentence in hell. Rough or gentle, long or brief, Renji could not deny that it was not any less of a violation on Ichigo. But he had done it anyway.

Shuuhei had laughed in his face, called him a disgrace to the Kuchiki family and many other things that would have riled him in the past, and when it didn't work this time, Shuuhei finally stopped using that to taunt him. What he said next, though, was even worse.

"Now, why would I break my favorite toy?" Shuuhei had said, caressing Ichigo's thigh almost lovingly. "I'm not tired of him yet."

Renji knew he shouldn't feel thankful, but at least Shuuhei had stuck to his word after that. He was eerily gentle, handling the unconscious young man like a delicate doll. Renji couldn't explain why, but that just made him feel even sicker. By the time Shuuhei was fully sated, it was already nearly two in the morning. Then, he had left Ichigo half-dressed on the bed and told Renji to get the fuck out of his house, leaving Renji no choice but to call a cab to take them back to Ichigo's dormitory.

Before Shuuhei left the room, he whispered into Renji's ear, "I expect him to be here same time next Friday."

Renji was too tired and shocked to say anything at the time, but now that he was left alone to his own thoughts in Ichigo's room, the severity of the situation finally hit him. This was getting out of hand, he felt like he was trapped in quicksand, and he was quickly being sucked deeper and deeper into it. What had started as a simple, selfish act on his end had now blown into something that he could no longer control.

The door suddenly swung inwards, and a tall, broad-shouldered man with brown wavy hair stepped in. His eyebrows shot up as he took in the sight of Renji sitting next to Ichigo's bed, then his eyes went to the sleeping form beneath the covers. His lips pursed into a thin, hard line.

Yanked suddenly from his deep thoughts, it took Renji a few beats to recognize the man. "S-starkk," Renji blurted.

The older man gave him a once-over, then said in a tired voice, "Kid got drunk again?"

Not trusting himself to speak properly, Renji simply nodded.

Starrk went to his own bed and sat down at the edge of the mattress. His eyes rested on Ichigo for a few seconds, then he turned to Renji. "He just doesn't learn, does he?" he asked with a shake of his head.

Renji swallowed, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Starrk carried himself with a laid-back, easygoing air, but his eyes bored into Renji's skull with an intensity that sent a chill down Renji's spine.

"You're Renji, right?" Starrk asked casually.

Renji nodded.

Starrk smiled. "He talks about you a lot," he commented. He let that hang in the air for a few seconds, and then as Renji started to sweat, Starrk continued, "He talks in his sleep sometimes. Nightmares." His eyes darkened suddenly, and then he leaned forward.

Renji unconsciously sat back in his chair.

"You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with his…condition, would you?" Starrk went on softly.

Renji averted his eyes, only to find himself looking at Ichigo. A rush of shame, anger, and pain hit Renji squarely in the chest, and something inside of him snapped.

"Yes, I do."

* * *

By the time Renji finished the story, his body was shaking uncontrollably. He tried his best to remain calm, but he couldn't stop the tremor that had crept into his voice. Starrk's face became darker and darker as he listened, and when Renji finally stopped speaking, the empty soda can in Starrk's fist had been crushed into a crumpled ball of aluminum.

For the longest time, the two of them sat in silence. They were in one of the smaller study rooms in the basement of the dormitory hall, where they could talk in private. As tension hung heavily in the air, Renji buried his face in his palms and took in shaky breaths, his hands ice cold and unsteady. He'd done it. He'd finally done what he should have done since the very beginning.

"Robbery and grand theft auto." Starrk sighed. When Renji nodded wordlessly, Starrk threw the ruined soda can towards the small garbage bin against the wall. There was a light thunk as the can hit the bottom of the metal container.

There was another long stretch of tense silence, until Starrk finally stirred and leaned forward.

"You do know that you will be held responsible for your part in this, yes?" Starrk asked quietly, looking intently at the younger man. "We can probably work something out to lighten your sentence, but I can't guarantee that."

Renji nodded. It was strange how he no longer cared now. He felt detached, numb. His life as he knew it was over, and to his surprise, he felt better than he had in years.

Starrk uncrossed his legs and pulled out his cell phone. "I'm going to call my mentor now," he explained.

Renji nodded again, grateful for the gentleness in Starrk's voice, something which he knew he didn't deserve.

Starrk straightened up when his call was picked up, and he spoke softly into his phone. Earlier, the first thing Starrk told him after he led Renji into this room was that he was getting his doctorate in Criminology, and that one of his mentors was a captain on the police force. He also told Renji that he should ask for a lawyer before he said anything. Renji had declined without a thought. Perhaps it was stupid to do so, but he didn't care, he was done protecting himself.

"Yes, I'll bring him in now," Starrk finished, then he hung up. With a sigh, he stood up and turned to Renji. "Let's go."

* * *

"No," Renji said firmly, his nostrils flaring as he fought the urge to spit at the man sitting across the table. His nails were starting to dig rather painfully into his palm as he tightened his fists, but the pain was nothing compared to the disbelief and anger he was feeling now.

Across the table, the man leaned forward. "To ensure a conviction, we need to do this," he said soothingly. "We have no evidence-"

Renji pounded his fist on the table, causing their coffee cups to slide a few inches across the smooth surface. "Fuck you! Test his blood for the drug, check for bodily fluids! _My_ testimony!"

The man sighed and ran his fingers through his shaggy blond hair. "Number one, Abarai-san," he said in a tired tone. "It has been almost twenty four hours since the drug was ingested, any traces of the drug in his system would be difficult to detect and may not hold up in court, and even if it does, we have no proof that it had been administered by Hisagi-san."

He paused and looked intently at Renji to make sure that the younger man was listening. Renji nodded grudgingly.

"Number two," the blonde continued. "According to your testimony, he used condoms."

"There has _got_ to be something," Renji insisted.

"Please understand, Abarai-san," the man said patiently. " _If_ there is any, it would be minimal, and like I said, may not hold up in court. As for your testimony, it's your word against his, and if you'll excuse me for being frank, with your record…"

Renji clenched his jaw.

"I'm not saying that I don't believe you," the blonde said. "Based on my experience, I can tell you that we do not have enough to get a definite conviction."

Renji slumped in his seat, devastated. Captain Urahara's suggestion was unacceptable in his mind. It would defeat the purpose of him coming forward in the first place, and worse of all, it would put Ichigo in danger.

Starrk leaned back into his chair and looked at his mentor. "How can we be sure that the kid will not be harmed?"

The older man leaned forward once more and laid his hands on the table. "Here is what we'll do."

* * *

Ichigo was already awake by the time Renji returned from the police station, and, as Renji and Starrk had expected, had no recollection of last night's events. He did, however, argue adamantly that he hadn't had any alcohol. Renji had to fight the urge to throw up as he blatantly lied to the boy, _again_ , that Ichigo did in fact drink. By the end of their argument, Ichigo was thoroughly confused and upset.

Then came the toughest part: Renji was to invite him to go to Shuuhei's house that Friday. It took a lot of persuading, but after Renji promised - nearly biting through his own tongue as he did so - that he would make sure that Ichigo wouldn't touch a single drop of alcohol that night, Ichigo had reluctantly agreed to go.

"You're such an asshole," he had grumbled.

Despite the name-calling, Renji detected a trace of playfulness in the boy's tone, and it had taken all of his will to not break down in front of Ichigo right then and there. He could tell that the kid was freaked out and antsy. Ichigo was trying to act tough, but any idiot could see through his facade. Who wouldn't be afraid after waking up - yet again - with no memory of a supposedly great night of partying?

What Renji didn't understand was why the boy continued to believe and trust him. He would've thought that after all this, Ichigo would at least suspect that Renji had something to do with his problems. A part of him wanted to shake the boy and tell him to wake up and stop being so stupid.

But, as Urahara had told him over and over again, they didn't have many options. Nobody knew what Shuuhei would do if Renji and Ichigo didn't show up. Either way, Ichigo was in danger. If Urahara's plan succeeded, at least they could be certain that Shuuhei would never be able to hurt Ichigo again. That was the only thing that kept Renji going at this point.

When Friday afternoon came, Renji went to Urahara's office to collect his equipment - a hidden microphone with a recorder that was small enough to fit inside the pocket of Renji's collared shirt. Renji stood stiffly as the older man helped him secure the device and ran through the instructions once again.

"You have to calm down, Abarai-san," Urahara said, resting his hand on Renji's shoulder.

Renji snorted but was too nervous to retort. Hell, he was scared out of his mind. There were so many possibilities that things could go wrong - what if he couldn't send the signal in time? What if he did but the police couldn't hear it? Worst of all, what if Shuuhei found the microphone? He could no longer say that he knew the man. The Shuuhei that they were now dealing with was bordering on insane, in his opinion. Who knew what he would do if that happened?

"Remember, your safety and Kurosaki-san's safety are the top-most priority here. Do _not_ act on your own," Urahara said. "If you sense even the slightest sign of danger, send the signal like I just showed you." When Renji remained silent, the blonde said sharply, "Look at me, Abarai-san. Do you understand?" He squeezed Renji's shoulder and didn't let go until the redhead nodded his head.

"I understand."

* * *

Friday came in a blink of an eye. After stopping for a quick dinner, Renji pulled up in front of Shuuhei's double-story house and killed the engine.

Stepping out of the car, Ichigo whistled softly. "Nice house," he commented.

Renji grunted. He hadn't been able to speak properly ever since he left the police station. His nerves were too tightly strung, and he was worried that he would snap if he wasn't careful. He couldn't mess this up, not now. He stuffed his car keys in his left pocket and casually patted his shirt pocket to make sure that the microphone was still there. The small but solid bulge calmed him a little, and he reminded himself that he needed to act normal.

They walked up to the front door, and Renji rang the doorbell. Then they waited. After thirty seconds of silence, Renji hit the doorbell again. This time, the door opened.

"Hey," Shuuhei greeted with a smile.

Renji once again wondered how this man - someone he'd known for years - could turn out to be so low. How had he not see it before? Was he blind, or was Shuuhei just really good at hiding his true self all along?

"Hello," Ichigo said. He kept his hands deep inside his jeans pocket, looking slightly awkward.

"Come on in," Shuuhei said warmly, then he stepped aside for his visitors.

Counting numbers in his mind in order to regulate his breathing, Renji squared his shoulders and entered the house.

* * *

"They're in," Urahara said softly into his mouth piece.

There was a brief moment of static, then a muffled voice replied, "Roger that. We are in position and holding."

The blonde sat back in the car seat and pursed his lips, looking uncharacteristically serious. Despite what he had told the young man who turned himself in, Hisagi Shuuhei was no stranger to the department. Over the years, they had received numerous reports that involved the man, including two cases of missing persons. However, none of the cases provided enough evidence for them to take him to court. Hisagi had proven himself to be a cautious and cunning man, preying only on young and inexperienced college students, especially ones from foreign countries. Urahara suspected that the man chose this specific demography because these victims would be less likely to approach the authorities.

Kurosaki's case was the big break that he'd been waiting for. Was it dangerous? Definitely. Was it morally sound for him to put two young civilians on the line? It was questionable, but Urahara had confidence in himself and his team. They had scouted out the area countless times before; now, his team were positioned around the house, ready to storm the building at the first command.

Urahara prayed silently that the redhead would stick to the plan, and most importantly, remember the instructions that they'd gone over many times throughout the week. Three taps on the microphone, and Urahara's men would crash their way in and secure the scene. Urahara knew that the biggest risk in the entire setup was Abarai Renji. One wrong move from him could lead to the end of the entire operation, or worse, his own death as well as Kurosaki's.

Once again, Urahara pushed the ethical aspect of his strategy to the back of his mind, reminding himself that this could be the only chance they had to finally bring the man to justice.

* * *

Renji and Ichigo waited in the living room while Shuuhei disappeared into the kitchen to prepare drinks for them. Renji had no doubt that Shuuhei would do something with Ichigo's drink again, and he almost had to pinch himself to refrain from dragging the boy out of the house before Shuuhei returned from the kitchen.

He couldn't bring himself to look at Ichigo, who was currently surveying the decorations in the living room with curiosity in his eyes. Not for the first time in the past week, Renji questioned his decision to go through with the police captain's plan. Everything about it reeked of trouble, but Starrk and Urahara had full confidence that it would work, so he had eventually let them talk him into it.

Before he was done with his thoughts, Shuuhei was back.

"Here we go, two iced Coke for the good boys, and a beer for this old man," Shuuhei announced as he placed a tray of drinks on the coffee table.

Ichigo chuckled and reached over for his glass. Renji hesitated for a few seconds, then he, too, picked up his glass. His entire body tensed as he watched Ichigo gulp down almost half of his Coke at once. Something poked the back of his mind, telling him that something was off, but it faded as soon as he tried to grasp it. Forcing himself to relax a little, he brought his glass to his lips and drank.

As Shuuhei proceeded to hold a casual conversation about sports, Renji couldn't help marveling at the man's charisma. Too nervous to pay attention to their debate about a recent soccer match, he began to fret about what was going to happen. Were Urahara's men outside? Was Urahara aware of what was going on in here? What if Shuuhei didn't make a move soon? What if he did and Urahara wasn't ready?

Then it struck him. How did Shuuhei know which glass of Coke Ichigo would pick? As the realization sank in, Renji's vision began to darken at the corners. The last thing that came to his mind before he went under was that they were in serious, serious trouble.

* * *

Renji blinked, gradually being dragged back to consciousness by the pounding headache behind his eyes. His temples throbbed in sync with his pulse, and he struggled to sit up from the floor, only to feel his stomach rise in his throat. Instinctively, he clamped a hand over his mouth and let out an involuntary retching sound.

"You're a strong bastard, aren't you?" Shuuhei's voice came from somewhere in the semi darkness, and Renji immediately forgot his own discomfort.

"You fucking knocked me out," he croaked. Fighting down the rising panic in his chest, his eyes searched his surroundings for signs that could help him recognize where they were. He had no idea how long he'd been out, they could be anywhere now. The thought that they might be alone without Urahara's men made him feel sick all over again. Then, he saw the familiar outline of Shuuhei's cupboard and almost sighed out loud. They were in Shuuhei's bedroom after all, which was dark only because of the thick curtains that were drawn over all the windows.

Shuuhei laughed. "Well, I can't have you in my way," he said light-heartedly, as if he was merely chatting about the weather. "Do you like my work?"

Renji squinted, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dimness in the room. When they slowly did so, he sucked in a sharp breath at the sight that greeted him. Ichigo was unconscious, his arms spread wide and cuffed to the headboard, rendering his upper body immobile. He was completely bare except for his boxers and a thick piece of cloth that was stuffed in his mouth.

"I like the way they struggle as I rip it off," Shuuhei said dreamily, gesturing to Ichigo's boxers. "The sounds they make, mmm…"

Enraged, Renji lurched forward to lunge at the man, only to find out that one of his wrists was tied to the handle of the closet, which was locked shut. He suddenly felt faint, his heart hammering like it was bouncing around in his rib cage. Grunting in frustration, he pulled at the rope, then again, and again, until it began to chafe his skin. His mind was starting to go haywire in his head, all he could think of was that he needed to get Ichigo out of here. Everything else didn't matter.

Laughing at Renji's frantic struggling, Shuuhei pulled his t-shirt over his head. Then, to Renji's horror, he began to unbuckle his pants.

What happened from that point on was a blur. Renji thew himself at Shuuhei again, not caring if his wrist broke in the process. He wasn't even aware that he was screaming, but he was, screaming the word "no" over and over again, his voice breaking as he became more desperate.

Then, the rope snapped.

Shuuhei's eyes went wide as the redhead stumbled, pushed forward suddenly by the momentum of his struggle now that his wrist was no longer trapped. It only took Renji a split second to realize what had happened, then his eyes narrowed into murderous slits, and he threw himself at the older man.

* * *

Urahara hadn't stopped chewing the insides of his cheeks ever since the line went silent on Abarai's end. He didn't know whether that meant that the man simply wasn't speaking, or that the volume was too low for the microphone to pick up, or that the microphone had malfunctioned. He tried not to think of the worst case scenario - that Hisagi had found and destroyed it.

At the ten minute mark, he was ready to give the order to storm the building when he caught a rustling sound in his ear piece. Frowning, he strained to listen. The next thing he heard was Hisagi's mocking voice, followed by the harsh, rapid sounds of Abarai's breathing. Sensing that things were rolling, Urahara sat up straight in his seat and brought his microphone to his lips to ask his men to standby for entry.

_Tap the microphone, tap the microphone, tap the-_

Then, the screams came.

Urahara cursed and hit the steering wheel in frustration. As he had feared, Abarai had forgotten his instructions in his panic. "Go, go, go-" Urahara yelled into his microphone, but before his command could be acknowledged, a deafening gunshot overwhelmed all other noises, ringing simultaneously through his ear piece and from the outside.

Urahara threw the car door open and sprinted for Hisagi's house, joining the uniformed men who were beginning to kick the front door open.

* * *

Renji staggered forward a few steps like a drunk as something slammed into the back of his thigh, then the pain hit him. With a strangled cry, he dropped to his knees. The impact jarred the gunshot wound in his thigh and sent him toppling over to his side. Before he could stop himself, his shoulder had hit the floor, and he rolled onto his back, his hands flying reflexively to his injured leg.

His world was reduced to the sharp, burning pain from his wound, and he squeezed his eyes shut and gasped. He had never been shot before; he never expected the pain to be so bad. It was an absurd thing to think given the circumstances, but even as he curled up on the floor, he wondered why action heroes made it seem like being shot was no big deal. How could they keep running and fighting with multiple bullet holes on their bodies? With another gasp, he rolled to his side and bit his lip against the pain, but it didn't help at all.

"Thanks, Tousen." Renji heard Shuuhei say.

Fighting the shaking of his body, Renji managed to look up towards the door and saw a dark-skinned man standing at the doorway. Despite the tears in his eyes, he could make out the dark-brown braids that hung loosely around the man's face, and more importantly, the pistol in his hand.

Renji was still trying to catch his breath when he felt a crushing weight on his hand that was covering the wound on his thigh. His head snapped back involuntarily from the sudden jolt of pain, and by the time his vision cleared again, he was panting so hard that he began to feel light-headed.

"You think I didn't know that you'd try to back out of this?" Shuuhei said smoothly, his foot grinding down on Renji's injured leg, wringing a string of curses from the redhead. "You think I'd be dumb enough to wait here for you two _alone?_ " He chuckled mirthlessly, then turned to the man at the door. "Give me the gun."

Renji nearly whimpered when Shuuhei snatched the gun from his partner and pointed it at him. As fear coursed through his limbs, he felt a sudden flare of anger at himself for being so damn weak. Instead of the whine that was threatening to escape from his throat, Renji growled and stared defiantly at the muzzle of the gun.

The only warning he got was a small smirk on Shuuhei's face, then his body jerked as a bullet tore into his chest just below his collarbone. His vision went white as the pain registered in his mind a second later. He grabbed his shoulder and coughed, so shocked that it didn't even occur to him to scream in pain.

"It's too bad that you just _had_ to be in my way," Shuuhei went on. "I liked you, Ren. You've been a great fuck."

Shuuhei's voice was distorted in Renji's pain-hazed mind, but he had no problem understanding that he was about to die. Finally remembering Urahara's instructions, he did the only thing he could do. He brought a trembling hand to his shirt pocket.

* * *

Urahara was half way across the lawn when the second gunshot rang out. Then, amidst the hoarse, wet sound of breathing, came a tap. Then another, and another, each softer than the last.

Then, came the third gunshot.

* * *

**To be continued…**

**Could not…resist…cliffhanger… *coughs***

**But before you shoot me, you do know that I update very frequently, right?**

**This chapter was very difficult to write even though I have it clearly in my head. I've been looking forward to writing this chapter since the beginning of the story, but it's so hard to put it down on paper to properly convey the "feel" of the action. Naturally, the medical information and police procedures portrayed here are by no means accurate, but I figured hey, if the CSI TV series can show us that DNA results can be delivered within a day, I'm entitled to some "improvisation", right? XD**

**One question I imagine you might have is "why is Ichigo so trusting, why is he so stupid?!". It will be explained eventually, I promise. Oh, and I chose to portray Urahara in this light based on the stunt he pulled with Rukia in the first arc (you know, the whole "I'm gonna hide the hogyoku in your soul without your permission" thing). He's pretty shady there, if you ask me. XP**


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing Ichigo heard was soft rustling of cloth. He turned his head slightly, instinctively, towards the sound. Then came a voice, deep but hushed, joined soon by another. He could hear snippets, the words disjointed and unclear.

"-his vitals-"

"Blood wo-"

"-police-"

Ichigo pulled his brows together, then decided that he was too tired to try to understand what was being said. He snuggled a little deeper into the soft, warm bed, enjoying the softness and warmth of the bedding against his skin. It was comfortable here, wherever _here_ was. If only there weren't those irritating beeping noises around him. Oh, and that smell - it stung his nose and seemed to spread into his throat, so bitter that he could almost taste it in his mouth.

"He should be awake by now."

This one he heard clearly. The voice was familiar, but he was too lazy to match it to a name in his memory bank. He just wanted to sleep, and then sleep some more. But it seemed like that was not to be. He felt a presence by his side, the warmth of a body, then whoever it was took the liberty of running his fingers through Ichigo's hair. It felt nice; it reminded him of how his late mother used to pet his head when he did well in school. Before he knew it, he was sighing, enjoying the feeling of the long digits still stroking his hair.

"Ichigo?" The hand pulled away.

Finally admitting that he could no longer pretend that he was asleep, Ichigo cracked an eye open reluctantly.

The shoulders of the man who was hovering above him relaxed visibly as the familiar face broke into a wide grin.

"Starrk," Ichigo said, recognizing his roommate even though the man looked haggard. He had never seen Starrk so worried, not even that one time when the man found him sleeping outside their dormitory.

"Ah, so good to see you awake, Kurosaki-kun," a light-hearted, singsong voice piped up behind Starrk, then Ichigo spied a shock of blond hair above Starrk's shoulder.

Ichigo didn't know the newcomer. The man had days-old stubble on the sides of his cheeks as well as his chin, giving him a grubby appearance, but the twinkle and intelligence shining in the man's grey-green eyes told Ichigo that he didn't always look like that.

"Ichigo, this is Captain Urahara," Starrk moved aside and introduced the blonde, who stuck out his hand.

Blinking in confusion, Ichigo pulled his right hand from underneath the comfortable covers and shook the police captain's hand. The only reason he knew that the man was on the police force was because of the badge that Urahara was holding up to show him, because the man was in plain clothes at the moment. Now, finally able to take in his surroundings clearer, Ichigo finally realized where he was.

"Why am I in a hospital?" he asked. He hated to admit it, but he could feel the familiar sense of panic rising in his gut. This must be it - another one those blackouts that he had been having, except this time he'd ended up in a hospital.

Starrk exchanged a look with Urahara, then they pulled up two chairs next to the bed and sat down. Ichigo didn't like the look on their faces - they looked so grim, it reminded Ichigo of how his father looked when he had to deliver bad news to his patients. What was it now? Had he finally lost his liver thanks to the obscene amount of alcohol he seemed to have consumed within the past year?

"Ichigo," Starrk began, leaning forward in his seat. Then he paused and bit his lip. There was no good way to give someone such news no matter which way he looked at it, so in the end, he said simply, "You're here because you were drugged and raped by a man called Hisagi Shuuhei."

Ichigo felt his jaw fall slack. Clearly he wasn't the only one shocked, because he saw the blond police captain turn and gape at Starrk as well, though he suspected Urahara's reaction was more because of Starrk's bluntness than the news itself.

"What?" Ichigo said reflexively. He had heard Starrk clearly, but just because he understood the words didn't mean he comprehended the situation. He shook his head and tried again. "What?"

Urahara pulled his chair closer to Ichigo's bed and quietly relayed the story, starting from the first night Ichigo met Renji to how the police arrested Shuuhei in his home. Ichigo felt himself turning cold, hot, then cold, then hot again as he finally learned the truth about what had happened to him. Never had he felt so violated and angry and helpless at the same time, and he didn't know what to do with the emotions that were welling in his chest. He bit his lip and willed himself to be strong; he wasn't going to sit there and weep like a child.

It was only at the end, when Urahara finally straightened up and stopped speaking, that Ichigo realize that he was holding Starrk's hand in his own. _Crushing_ would probably be a better term, because by the time Ichigo let go, Starrk's palm and fingers were bright red. Starrk never made a sound, though, instead he just grasped Ichigo's hand in return and held it just tight enough to show his support.

When Ichigo finally calmed down enough to speak, he said softly, "R-renji lied."

Urahara sat back in his chair and looked at Starrk. Nodding, Starrk gave his younger roommate's hand a brief squeeze. "Yes," he said.

That was it - the final threads of control that Ichigo had been clinging on slipped. His lower lip quivered, and he bit down on it in anger, hard enough to draw blood. Anger filled his chest, both at Renji and at himself. The betrayal stung, but he knew too that it would never have happened if he had just used a little common sense. There had been so many danger signs along the way, yet he had blatantly ignored them, convincing himself that he knew what he was doing. He had been so stupid, so, so stupid.

Ichigo let go of Starrk's hand and covered his own face with both hands. Perhaps it should've bothered him that he was more upset about Renji's betrayal than what Shuuhei had done to him. Perhaps it was unhealthy, abnormal, or perhaps it just hadn't sunk in far enough for him to feel it yet. He hadn't been conscious through the ordeals after all, he had no memory of them, he didn't see it, didn't feel it.

But Renji was different - he had trusted his so-called friend so blindly, so willingly. What made him feel sicker and dumber was that, even now, he still hoped that this was all a mistake. Even after Starrk had just confirmed it, he still hoped that it was a misunderstanding.

"Can I talk to him?" Ichigo asked, his voice a little muffled behind his palms. He heard a soft exhalation of breath, then he looked up to see Urahara stand up.

"I need to go back to the station," the police captain said. He patted Starrk's shoulder a few times, gave Ichigo a smile and a nod, and walked out of the room.

As the door slowly swung closed, Ichigo was suddenly struck with a sense of foreboding. Urahara had looked uncomfortable. Something was wrong, something was wrong with _Renji_. Despite the disappointment and anger at his friend, Ichigo felt a rising sense of fear and worry.

"I want to see him," he said, throwing the covers off and scrambling to get down from the bed.

"Ichigo, listen to me," Starrk immediately grabbed him and forced him back.

Something in Starrk's voice made Ichigo stop wriggling, so he froze, one of his legs dangling over the side of the bed while the other still remained stretched out in front of him.

"He's dead." Starrk's voice was sorrowful but steady. "I'm sorry."

It took Ichigo a few seconds to react, and when he did, Starrk had to hold him back while he thrashed, screaming Renji's name and wailing words in Japanese that Starrk didn't understand. The tears and sobs that he'd been holding back for the past hour finally broke through his control, and they spilled into his cries, breaking his voice until he went hoarse. Everyone who walked by the room automatically covered their mouths, one or two even teared up, inevitably affected by the heartbreaking sounds coming from Ichigo.

Starrk held his younger roommate as the boy rode through his grief, only letting go when Ichigo's shoulders finally stilled.

"H-how?" Ichigo croaked, his voice reduced to a scratchy whisper.

Starrk took a deep breath and said softly, "He was shot."

"By the p-police?" Ichigo immediately asked, becoming agitated again.

"Of course not!" Starrk looked horrified. "By Shuuhei and his accomplice."

Ichigo fell back on the bed, emotionally drained all of a sudden. His head was beginning to throb, making him light-headed and dizzy. His throat hurt whenever he swallowed. He couldn't believe this was how this was going to end. He was safe now, free from Shuuhei's clutches, but at what price? Even though Renji had betrayed him, he couldn't deny that he would never be able to hate the man. He was extremely mad and disappointed, but he could never hate him.

He knew he was being irrational; the man had tossed him to the wolf after all. He should hate Renji, he should tear into him and make him pay for what he had done, he should be wishing that Renji would rot in prison and hopefully also rot in hell. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Ichigo knew exactly why - he had come to terms with his feelings ever since he realized it. He had never expressed it, and now he was left to regret his decision for the rest of his life.

* * *

Starrk could sense that Ichigo had drifted into his own world, so he stood up. The boy needed to deal with this alone; grief wasn't something he could share with Ichigo. Not when he didn't feel the same way about the person Ichigo was grieving over. He gave Ichigo's arm a brief squeeze to let him know that he was leaving, and when the boy didn't acknowledge him, Starrk turned around and walked slowly out of the room, leaving his young friend to mourn by himself.

Starrk didn't know what Ichigo saw in the redhead, but ever since the two became friends, Starrk could tell that Ichigo felt something stronger than friendship for Renji. But it wasn't his place to comment or judge, so he'd never said anything even though he had thought there was something off about the redhead all along. He'd always thought it was one-sided anyway, until that moment when he held Renji's limp hand in his own. He didn't think the redhead knew it himself either.

Renji could barely breathe on his own at the time, his mouth gradually filling with blood due to the gunshot wound that had punctured his lung. Yet the only thing he said was Ichigo's name. Even when his eyes became glassy with pain and drowsiness, all he repeated was the boy's name, and he didn't stop mumbling until Starrk told him that Ichigo was safe. He had smiled then, and then his heart stopped.

* * *

It wasn't until two months into their friendship that Ichigo began to discover the signs. At first, it was just a simple sense of excitement whenever he knew he was going to spend time with Renji. He had brushed it off as part of building a friendship - it was normal to feel happy in the company of friends, was it not? But when his heart began to beat quicker, and his cheeks started to heat up whenever Renji was physically close, even if it was a brief touch, an accidental bumping of elbows, Ichigo knew it wasn't that simple anymore.

That was when he built up the courage to ask Renji out on weekends. The idiot never indicated that he knew Ichigo's purpose, and Ichigo had been content with that for the moment. He knew they needed to move slowly anyway, get to know each other better. In retrospect, perhaps it was his subconscious telling him that he should hold back, that something was wrong.

Ichigo wasn't stupid. He knew there must be more to his "blackouts". He had never forgotten about that mysterious teeth mark on his neck, and he had an idea what could lead to soreness between his legs. Bruises on his hips, the slight burn when he walked, stiffness in his back - he had an idea what could cause them all. He didn't understand, and probably never would, why he wasn't more cautious or why he never confronted Renji about his suspicion. Perhaps he was waiting to see if Renji would one day tell him himself. Yet, what did he really want to hear? That they had slept together when they were both drunk? Would he feel better if Renji confirmed that? He didn't know, so he had shoved it to the back of his mind, again and again. Then, it seemed to have gone away; nothing happened for a long time, until now.

And even now, after finding out the truth, he could not deny it - he loved Renji.

Perhaps love was a strong word, but that was how he thought about it in his mind. _Crush_ was too juvenile, _like_ was too mild, so he'd always thought of it as love. He knew that it was a short time for one to develop such feelings for another; they had only known each other for a little over six months after all, but Ichigo had never been more certain about something in his life. He had thought that they had plenty of time, plenty of chances for him to tell Renji how he felt about him.

But now it was too late.

Ichigo had only grieved like this once in his life, and that was when his mother passed away when he was nine years old. He had promised himself then, that he would never be weak and never cry again, yet now he was unable to stop the silent tears that were still slowly sliding down his cheeks. He wiped them away angrily, rubbing his face until it hurt. He was glad that Starrk had the sensitivity to leave him alone, because he would die before letting anyone see him like this.

It was with Renji's smiling face in his mind that Ichigo finally drifted off into fitful slumber, mumbling and shedding unbidden tears through the night, alone in the darkness of the hospital room.

* * *

Starrk sat patiently in the plastic chair, silently surveying the uniformed guards in the sterile visiting room as he waited. He had been doing this for a while now; it was never pleasant, having to sign in, go through metal detectors, then wait for his turn in a room full of anxious friends and family members. He felt uncomfortable being surrounded by people with their emotions written so clearly on their faces, but he did this dutifully every month like clockwork until it had become almost a habit now.

The door finally swung open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man walked in, clad in the generic neon-orange jumpsuit issued to all prisoners here. Starrk noticed and tried to ignore the expectant faces that fell at the other tables in the visiting room as the other visitors saw that it wasn't their loved one. The man was led to Starrk's table by a guard, never meeting Starrk's eyes until he was fully seated across from him.

He had lost some weight, Starrk noted. Even after seeing him so many times, Starrk still hadn't gotten used to seeing the man without his trademark ponytail, which he had chosen to cut in favor of a more practical cropped cut that was easier to maintain.

"Spring break has just started," Starrk said in his usual casual, easygoing manner. "He's going on a road trip with a couple of friends, they're leaving in two days."

The man nodded, a ghost of a smile brightening his auburn eyes.

Starrk sighed, like he'd always done during every visit. "Why do you do this to yourself, Abarai?"

Renji let out a sigh of his own and hung his head. "He needs to move on," he said softly. He had lost his loudmouthed, cocky attitude ever since they managed to resuscitate him at the scene.

He had been very lucky that day. Had Shuuhei not been distracted by the sudden appearance of Urahara's men, that third shot would've gotten him in the chest instead of simply grazing his bicep. If Starrk hadn't been there, and if Starrk hadn't insisted on having paramedics on standby at the scene despite Urahara's opinion that it was not necessary, Renji would not be sitting here right now.

"Ugh," Starrk muttered.

"This is the least I can do for him," Renji replied, as he always had whenever Starrk asked him this question. He didn't care if he sounded like a coward. Perhaps he was, hiding behind a lie, but he told himself that it was for the best. Ichigo didn't need any reminders of his traumatic experience.

When Starrk told him how Ichigo had mourned for him, Renji thought his heart would break. He certainly didn't deserve it. Despite Starrk's stance on not meddling in other people's problems, he had - more out of frustration than anything else - told Renji why Ichigo had always believed Renji even when he suspected that something was wrong. Renji never commented on it verbally, but Starrk recognized regret and affection when he saw it. He didn't know if it had been a good idea, but after that, he gave Renji a small photo of Ichigo as keepsake. The redhead had hesitated, but had accepted it in the end.

After the brief update about Ichigo, Starrk went on to chat about random things, from college football to his research, while Renji listened quietly, chuckling occasionally when Starrk said something funny with that dry sense of humor of his. Over the months, the two of them had developed a bond, connected only by the one person that they both cared deeply for, albeit in different ways.

When the allotted visiting time was over, Starrk left, knowing that the redhead would be looking forward to his next visit, if only for a small sliver of information about the boy. He didn't agree with Renji's decision, but he had already meddled enough. With a sigh, Starrk slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. Perhaps Renji was right; Ichigo was still young after all, perhaps he did deserve this opportunity to move on.

* * *

**To be continued...**

**I was actually tempted to end the chapter where Ichigo fell asleep, but then I figured that I'm not in a real hurry to go to hell. XP**


	7. Chapter 7

Renji stood at the doorway of the dingy little room and stared. The room was bare except for a thin mattress that lay next to a wall with slightly peeling paint, and a dresser that was set against the wall across from it. Three years ago, he would've thrown a fit at the thought that he had to live in a space like this, but now, after sharing a cell with a stranger for so long, this might as well be the honeymoon suite in a five-star hotel. He held the sudden rush of emotions in check and walked inside slowly, noting the familiar texture of tatami mat beneath his bare feet. He placed his backpack on the floor, then crouched down and ran his fingers through the baby blue-colored bed sheet, savoring the softness of the fabric. It was well-used and not particularly of high quality, but it smelled of home - not his, but home nonetheless.

"Please forgive us for the state of the room, Abarai-san," the soft-spoken lady of the house said, then she took a step back and bowed.

Renji was at her side at once, wanting to hold her arms to stop her from bowing but too polite to do so. "Please, Unohana-san, I'm the one who should be apologizing for intruding," he said hastily.

The woman looked up at him and smiled. "Nonsense, Juushirou and I are happy to have you here," she said, resting her elegant fingers on Renji's forearm. Her blue eyes regarded him with genuine affection that made him melt a little inside, then she gave him a shallow bow anyway and said that she would be back when dinner was ready.

Once Unohana was out of sight, Renji went back into the room and sat down on the narrow bed.

He was finally here.

So much had changed in the past three years. As he had expected, his family had disowned him as soon as they found out that he'd been arrested and sent to jail. He knew that his stepbrother, Kuchiki Byakuya, had always wanted him out of the clan anyway, and he had just given him a convenient reason to do so. Byakuya had stopped his funding immediately, leaving only what he already had in his bank account in America. Renji had never been one for savings, so it was barely enough for him to hire a lawyer. Not that he really needed one for his defense - he had pleaded guilty, and never paid attention to what was worked out between the lawyer and the prosecutors. Starrk had helped him, of course, and had continued to do so through the years, visiting him every month, even remembering his birthday every year.

Renji certainly didn't miss his family a single bit. The only thing that he had been afraid of was letting his mother down by getting kicked out. Like Shuuhei had said, he was a stray. Kuchiki Sojun, Byakuya's father, had married Renji's mother after his first wife passed away, and Renji's mother had brought him into the family. He was only ten at the time, four years younger than Byakuya and the same age as Sojun's only daughter, Rukia. For reasons that Renji never understood, Byakuya had hated him for as long as he remembered. Perhaps the older man felt threatened by the presence of another son in the house; Renji never bothered to ask. Sojun had tried to smoothen the relationship between the two brothers, but he had never succeeded even up till his death.

Then, two years after Sojun's death, Renji's mother passed away as well, leaving Renji alone and vulnerable in a cold, detached family. Rukia was the only one who was kind to him, secretly sneaking into his room to give him her CDs, or books, and once, even her game console to cheer him up. Okay, so maybe he did miss _one_ person in his former family.

The only reason Renji had the opportunity to study abroad was because Byakuya had no choice but to follow his father's will, which clearly stated that all his children - including his step-son - were to be granted the chance to do so. And he had blown that by being stupid.

After he was released from prison, he was immediately deported back to Japan. Now, he had no family, no friends, and no money. Luckily for him, Rukia extended her kindness once again. But there wasn't much she could do, given that she had to do it behind her brother's back. She was married now, to a man who worked for Byakuya, so she had to do it behind her husband's back as well. That left her little choice except to ask one of her old high school teachers for help.

Ukitake Juushirou had answered her call for help without hesitation. He had long since retired, and now lived with his wife, Unohana Retsu, in a small town called Karakura, a place that Renji had never heard of before. Ukitake offered Renji a place to stay, refusing to take a cent until Renji found a job and had a steady income.

So, now, here he was, after thousands of miles of traveling and hardship. Renji ran his fingers through his hair, which was still closely cropped. He'd gotten used to not having to worry about maintaining it like he had to when it was long, so he'd kept it this way. Maybe, maybe one day when he had a stable job and had a bit more time for himself, he might grow it out again.

He pulled his backpack closer and took out his meager belongings - the most basic of toiletries, a worn wallet containing his ID and some money that Rukia had insisted that he accept, and his most precious belonging of all: a small, wrinkled colored photo of an orange-haired young man.

Renji held the photo in his hand and gently dragged his thumb over the smiling face. This action had become somewhat of a ritual over the years, but he'd always had to be careful when he did it in his cell. He didn't want to ask for trouble, although most of the time the other inmates just left him alone. After staring at the photo for a few more seconds, he slipped it into his wallet and placed the wallet on the ground next to the head of the mattress.

Tomorrow, he would start looking for a job here. To be honest, he was worried. This was a small town, and he was an outsider in his late twenties without a college degree. All he had was his high school diploma and a criminal record. He didn't have high hopes, but he was determined to try his best.

* * *

Renji counted the bills in his hand and sighed. If he ate only two meals a day, his money would last him at most three more days. If he bought only the food on sale, the ones that were going to expire the next day, he could perhaps stretch it for another day.

He leaned against the wall outside the grocery store and carefully unwrapped the onigiri that he had just bought. It had been a tiring morning, and he was thirsty and hungry. It had been two days, and he hadn't had any luck so far. The first day, he had been disheartened when people shrank away from him just because of his tattoos and bright-colored hair. Storekeepers turned him away as soon as he asked about job vacancies. It was also very depressing, because every rejection reminded him that he could've been a computer engineer if he had completed his degree. Every time he found himself wandering down that line of thought, he would remind himself that it was his own fault. And then, whenever he thought of that, he would think of Ichigo, and that just made him feel even more depressed.

His disappointment must've shown on his face, because when he went back to Ukitake's house that night, the gentle, white-haired man gave him a letter and asked him to bring it with him the next time he went job-searching. Feeling curious, he had opened it when he went into his room, and had nearly teared up when he saw that it was a recommendation letter from Ukitake himself. It was short and simple, stating that Renji was the brother of one of Ukitake's brightest students, and that Ukitake vouched for him.

With that letter, the second day became a little better, but he still wasn't able to get a position anywhere. He was under-qualified for most, yet over-qualified for some. Even when he stated that he didn't care if he was over-qualified, employers were reluctant. They accepted his application, but he knew they were most likely going to throw it aside once he turned his back.

And so, here he was, on the third day of his job-hunting adventure, standing by the roadside under the sun, trying his best to finish his lunch without spilling it all over himself. When he finally wolfed down his meal, he stood up and wiped his brow, thinking about where he should look next. As he stretched his back, a piece of paper fluttered off of the cork board on the wall next to the grocery store. He knew that the board was filled with miscellaneous advertisements like job vacancies, yoga classes, and children's music lessons, so he pushed himself away from the wall and went to pick up the piece of paper so that he could stick it back onto the board.

 _"Tesshou Ramen Shop is looking for a handsome, brave, hardworking cook's helper! First come first serve, so come try your luck here now!_ " Renji read, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous candidate requirements.

He raised his hand to grab one of the push pins on the cork board, then he stopped. He may not be _handsome_ or _brave_ , but he could be hardworking. He didn't know anything about the workings of a restaurant and had close to no experience in the kitchen, but he could try. Noting down the name and address, Renji stuck the advertisement back onto the board and walked off in search of the shop.

When he found it, though, his face fell. In the kindest of terms, the ramen shop could be described as homely - it was wedged between two nicer-looking stores, making it look even dirtier and smaller. The green-white striped awning was a little lopsided and looked like it could crash down at any moment, while the words "Tesshou Ramen" was painted proudly above the wooden door. Renji would've walked away, but then came a whiff of the most mouth-watering aroma he'd smelled in a long time. He immediately salivated and then blushed in shame for acting like a hungry child. In truth, he _was_ still hungry; that small onigiri did nothing to fill his stomach, especially with him walking around almost the entire day.

Renji brought out his wallet and counted his money again. He could buy a bowl of ramen now, but then he would have to settle for crackers the next day if he wanted the money to last through two more days. He hesitated, torn between giving into his hunger now or being practical and saving the money for the future. God knows he was going to need it, if his current job search luck was any indication.

Before he could decide, the wooden door burst open and a short, red-haired boy in his early teens jumped out, startling him so much that he dropped his wallet.

"Jinta! How many times do I have to tell you that _that is not the right way to greet customers?_ " a deep booming voice bellowed from inside.

The kid scowled and bent down to pick up Renji's wallet for him. "Here," he said, almost pouting. He thrust the wallet into Renji's hands and said with a roll of his eyes, "Welcome to Tesshou Ramen Shop, where we have the most delicious ramen in the entire prefecture! Step in and smell for yourself! Let us impress your taste buds and steal your soul!" He flung his hands into the air dramatically at the very end, and then glared at Renji as if daring him to laugh.

Renji stared at the boy, trying to decide if the kid was just joking, or if that was the older man's idea of the "proper" way to greet customers. He felt the building pressure in his chest from his effort to hold back his laughter, but he was quickly failing. He bit his lip and held his breath, desperately willing his own body to swallow the laughter that was bubbling up his throat.

"Go on, laugh," Jinta said grudgingly. He gave the door a quick look and then leaned closer to Renji to whisper, "The old man's nuts."

The exasperation in the boy's eyes made Renji chuckle. "Steal my soul, eh?" he asked, amused. He held his wallet in his hand for a few more seconds, and then finally made up his mind.

Fifteen minutes later, while Renji's soul was still intact, he had to admit that that was the best ramen he had ever had. That was saying a lot - Renji _loved_ ramen with a passion and had tried almost every ramen shop in Tokyo, and this one beat them all hands down. When he told the shopkeeper, he was nearly crushed when the giant of a man pulled him into a hug.

"Ojisan! This is _not_ how you treat a customer!" a soft, higher-pitched voice cried, then a little girl latched herself onto the shopkeeper and tried to untangle the two men.

When the older man finally let go, Renji slumped back into his seat, dazed and beyond surprised. The girl bowed repeatedly and rushed off to get him a fresh cup of green tea. "It's on the house!" she yelled as she disappeared behind the curtain that separated the seating area and the kitchen.

The shopkeeper seemed baffled at the girl's reaction, as he simply shrugged and pressed a large hand on Renji's shoulder. "You have to come here again!"

Renji couldn't help smiling, even though his shoulder was beginning to ache under the man's weight. This was the most fun he'd had in a very long time; these people were obnoxiously loud and weird, but they were nice and for some reason, made him feel warm and happy inside. Perhaps his soul _had_ been stolen, Renji noted dryly. After thinking for a bit, he decided that he would ask about what he came here for after all.

"I read that you are, ah, hiring?" he asked.

The shopkeeper widened his eyes and stood up to his full height. Renji gulped, suddenly understanding why the applicant needed to be _brave_. This man was easily six and a half foot tall, and he was built like a football player, his biceps thick with muscle. If not for the large handlebar mustache and the cornrowed black hair on his head, he would cut an intimidating figure. As it was, he still looked kind of scary, but in a much gentler, harmless way.

"I say we hire him!" Jinta said, pulling up in front of Renji and sweeping his eyes up and down.

The little girl reappeared and placed a tea cup in front of Renji. She stuck her hands on her hips and chided the boy, "You're saying that only because he has red hair like you, isn't it?" Then, realizing that she came off rather offensive, she clasped her hands over her mouth and bowed again.

Renji's mouth twitched as he felt more laughter crawling up his throat, but he clamped his mouth shut to be polite. He held the girl's elbow and caught her mid-bow. "So, may I interview?" he asked the shopkeeper, feeling hopeful.

The man stared down at him with narrowed eyes, then, after a few seconds, he said firmly, "No."

Renji's face fell. Oh well, what was he expecting anyway? At least he'd tried. He had to smile, though, when the two children began shouting in his defense, chastising the older man for making the wrong decision.

To Renji's surprise, he was then suddenly grabbed by the shoulders, and the shopkeeper announced, "No, you may not interview, because you're hired!"

Renji gaped, unsure whether to laugh or cry at the sudden twist of events. If that was the man's sense of humor, it was lame in capital letters. The kids clearly thought so too, because they immediately booed. Then, the realization that he now had a job sank in, and Renji's face broke into the widest grin he'd given in many years.

* * *

Over the course of the next week, Renji met the other employees at the shop. There was a short, timid-looking high school kid called Yamada Hanatarou, who was the other cook's helper, and a waitress named Inoue Orihime. Even though Renji had no interest in women, he still had to work very hard not to look down at the girl's generous assets when he spoke to her. He didn't know if there was something in the ramen soup, but he liked both of them at first sight. In fact, there was nothing he didn't like in the store. Well, except the condition of the shop, he supposed.

Despite the quality of the food, the store didn't get a lot of customers. Renji secretly suspected that it was because of the shabby-looking exterior of the shop, but he had just started working there and didn't feel like it was his place to comment on it. Still, there was plenty for him to do, as making ramen broth daily was a lot of hard work. He had to get up early in the morning six days a week - he had Wednesdays off - but he didn't mind it one bit. He had gotten used to getting up early during his stint in jail anyway, and getting up to work at a restaurant was so much more pleasant that he actually looked forward to it every day.

Of course, he had also learned more about his employer, Tsukabishi Tessai. The man was a former wrestling coach who gave up his career to pursue his dreams. Renji thought that owning a ramen shop was a rather odd dream, but who was he to judge? At least Tessai had a dream. As for Renji, he was content just being able to feed himself. He was paying rent now; it didn't leave him much for himself, but it made him feel a little more dignified. He hated the feeling of freeloading off of the retired couple. He knew that Ukitake had health problems and, while they managed alright, whatever spare cash the couple had would be useful for medical expenses.

Renji had also learned that Ururu and Jinta were orphans taken in by Tessai when they were babies. Even though he was the father figure in their lives, he never officially adopted them as his children. Not that it mattered anyway. Renji could see the shine of affection in the children's eyes whenever they were around the man, and vice versa - as far as Renji was concerned, they were much, much more of a family than the Kuchiki clan would ever be.

Today, just as he had been doing for the past few days, Renji got up at five and headed out for his daily morning jog. He had lost muscle mass when he served his sentence, but now he was determined to build it back up. He slipped out of the house silently so that he wouldn't wake his landlords, then he ran, circling the entire neighborhood. The chilly fresh air bit his skin, but he couldn't be happier.

Even after his run and a shower, he was still the first to arrive at the shop - besides Tessai and the children, of course, who didn't really count since they lived just upstairs. He changed into the simple white t-shirt that screamed "Tesshou Ramen Shop" on the front and wrapped an apron around his waist. Then, he set to work, taking out the marinated pork that was to be roasted and sliced, as well as green onion and bamboo shoots and countless other ingredients that needed to be washed, chopped, and diced.

Renji was laying out all the items on the large stainless steel table when Tessai and the kids came down from their rooms. Jinta was in his second year of junior high school, while Ururu was in her last year of elementary school. They were quieter and grouchy in the morning, especially Jinta, who practically growled at Renji when Renji greeted him. Renji didn't mind; it felt nice to be around them as they got ready for school, it almost felt like he belonged in a family.

Once the kids were gone, Tessai began to prepare the broth, and the two men fell into comfortable silence. Tessai rarely spoke when the children were not around, and that was perfectly fine with Renji. It wasn't like he had a lot to say either, and he was more than relieved not to have to answer more awkward questions about his life. Ururu had tried prodding just the day before, but he had skillfully diverted her attention to the gameshow that was showing on TV. He had told Tessai about his history in private on the day he was hired, deciding that he should get it out in the open. He'd rather lose the job now by being honest than losing it later when Tessai somehow found out on his own. To Renji's surprise, Tessai simply punched him lightly on his arm and told him to come to work the next day at six in the morning.

By about nine o'clock, Renji was done with the vegetables and began to check on the pork. And then at ten, Orihime waltzed in, her burnt-orange hair pulled up in a high ponytail. She shouted out her usual bubbly greeting, then went to the back to change and put on her apron. Renji's eyes lingered on her hair. Even though Orihime was easily the most cheerful person he'd ever known, he couldn't help feeling a little sad whenever he saw her. It was her hair - it reminded him of Ichigo, of what he had lost.

Before he knew it, she was back, flitting around the kitchen like a bee, humming as she peeked over their shoulders and offering her help. Renji put down the knife he was holding and raised his eyebrows.

"Did you win the lottery or something?" he asked curiously. The girl had always been energetic, but today she almost seemed like she was high on something with the way she was dancing around.

Orihime giggled and leaned over the table next to him. "No," she said, and then giggled again. She reached over and picked up a pair of chopsticks and began to poke at the pile of neatly-chopped green onion.

Her laughter was contagious, and Renji found himself smiling as he batted her chopsticks away before she could ruin his hard work. "Yeah? Then what is it?"

Orihime turned around and leaned her butt against the kitchen counter. "I'm just really excited!" she said with a dreamy look in her eyes. "I'm meeting an old classmate this evening. It's been _so long_ since I last saw him!"

"An old boyfriend?" Renji knew he was being nosy, but he couldn't resist asking. His grin widened when the girl blushed immediately.

"No!" Orihime crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, looking embarrassed.

Renji chuckled. He could _so_ hear the "I wish" in the girl's voice, but he decided not to point it out.

"He's _really_ nice," Orihime went on. "Super smart too, like, _really_ _really_ smart." Then, after a short pause, she added shyly, "He's cute, too."

"Ah."

Orihime nodded solemnly, oblivious to the smirk on Renji's face. "He went to America to study after high school, this will be the first time I'm seeing him since he went there. I wonder if he has changed?" she pondered out loud.

At the mention of America and college, Renji felt his mood slip, and his smile faltered slightly. Orihime didn't notice his reaction. "He just graduated, and he's coming back here to be a teacher at our old high school! Isn't that cool?" she continued excitedly.

When Renji didn't reply, Orihime turned and finally saw Renji's face. "Aww! Are you okay?"

Renji nodded, his good mood now dampened significantly. He knew he was being stupid. Lots of people came back with degrees from US universities, it wasn't a big deal. But he just couldn't help it - the memory was still too fresh. He was glad that Tessai had remained silent through the entire conversation. The man seemed to have picked up Renji's mood, though, because he suddenly called to Orihime and asked her to help him watch the fire for a bit.

Before Orihime left Renji's side, she promised him that she would make him a chocolate-green-tea-red-bean pudding later to cheer him up, then she skipped away, humming as she went. As Renji once again stared after her hair, he caught Tessai giving him a reassuring nod, and he couldn't help but smile back.

One step at a time, he told himself as he returned his attention to the chopping board. Piece by piece, he would rebuild his life.

* * *

**To be continued…**

**"Tesshou" is a Hakudo move that Tessai excels at, which translates literally to "Metal Fists". Do you guys love the new characters? It's funny how I always manage to incorporate Tessai into my stories even though I don't particularly like him. XP**

**Till the next chapter, good night!**


	8. Chapter 8

Renji hadn't pegged Hanatarou as a gossip-loving person, but boy, he couldn't be more wrong. The minute the kid found out that Orihime was meeting up with a smart, hot, potentially boyfriend-material friend, he wouldn't stop hounding Renji for details even after Renji swore on his mother's grave that he hadn't heard back from the girl since the reunion. She had two days off right after that, and Renji hadn't seen her since then.

"Why don't you just ask her yourself?" Renji finally asked in exasperation.

Snapping his mouth shut, Hanatarou went pink in the face and bowed his head, hiding behind his jaw-length hair.

It took a few seconds, but eventually, comprehension dawned and Renji raised his eyebrows.

"No! It's not what you think!" the boy immediately said, correctly guessing what Renji was thinking.

Renji smirked and nodded. "Sure."

Hanatarou looked stricken when he heard the heavy dose of sarcasm in the redhead's tone. "Please! Don't tell anyone!" he begged, wringing his hands nervously.

"Don't tell anyone what?" a loud voice suddenly piped up behind the two of them.

Hanatarou jumped and nearly bumped into Renji's elbow as he whipped his head around. It was only Tessai, his gloved fingers and forearms covered in a coat of flour, having just finished making a fresh batch of ramen on the other side of the kitchen. He peered questioningly at Hanatarou from above his rectangular-shaped glasses, waiting for a response.

"Nothing," Hanatarou said hastily.

Renji nearly snorted, but kept quiet all the same, not wanting to embarrass the obviously-shy Hanatarou any further.

Tessai, on the other hand, was either just clueless or intentionally being mean. "I thought I heard you mention Inoue-"

Before he could finish speaking, the front door swung open. All three men turned in unison and were immediately greeted by a very happy Orihime. Her smile was radiant and wide, lending her already-flawless face a glow that highlighted her rosy cheeks.

Shaking his head in amusement, Renji decided to ask on behalf of Hanatarou - the poor kid looked like he had been bombed in the face, judging by the color of his cheeks. "So how was the date?"

"It wasn't a _date_ ," Orihime pouted, but her smile remained. She hopped onto one of the stools lined up along the counter, then rested her elbows on the counter top and cupped her cheeks with her palms.

Despite the bashful smile on her face, Renji could tell that she was bursting to tell them about it, so he cocked an eyebrow and gestured for her to go on.

Orihime blushed, but looked relieved that her friends seemed interested. "He is so much taller now," she said before letting out a dreamy sigh. "And he's gotten…I don't know, broader? I think he has been working out, his biceps are like, really toned! And his hair has gotten longer too!"

Renji shot a look at Hanatarou and felt sorry for the boy. He was clinging on to every word, giving her his full attention even though she was talking about another boy, one whom she _clearly_ liked. From the way she was going on, this classmate of hers was the most perfect man in the world.

"He's going to teach English!" Orihime continued proudly. "He even has a little accent now, it's so cute!"

Renji rolled his eyes and chuckled under his breath. _"_ So, when's the next date?" he asked casually as he rinsed a stack of plates in the sink.

The girl let out a string of giggles and said almost shyly, "I'm having dinner with him tomorrow, but it's _not_ a date, okay?"

Glancing at Hanatarou again, Renji had to suppress the sudden urge to give the kid a hug. He looked like he needed it.

* * *

Unfortunately for Hanatarou, his prospects just continued to dip over the next few weeks. They had all gotten used to Orihime's antics now; all she talked about during her shift was Mr. Perfect, constantly gushing about how _popular_ he was with his students and how he was _such_ a gentleman.

And then, when they passed the two-month mark, she began to officially date him. She was still sweet towards Renji and Hanatarou, but she stopped making her quirky little desserts for them like she used to. Renji didn't want to be mean, but he was actually secretly thankful for that.

"He's a lucky guy," Hanatarou mumbled wistfully one day. "I wonder what he looks like." He was standing next to Renji, arranging ingredients in the bowls lined up in front of him on the kitchen counter.

Renji gave the boy a sympathetic squeeze on his shoulder as Hanatarou sighed. He didn't know what he could say to console the kid, so he remained silent and hoped that his small gesture would be enough. He decided not to mention to Hanatarou that he'd gotten a brief glimpse of Orihime's boyfriend earlier that day; it wasn't like he got a clear view of the guy anyway.

He was perched on a ladder at the time, measuring the dimensions of the current awning that stretched from the roof of the store. After keeping it to himself for so long, he had finally caved and told Tessai that they needed to do something about that ugly thing. Tessai had taken it in stride, and then proceeded to hand the task over to him. He didn't mind, it was actually kind of nice to be able to do something outdoors for a change.

As he was retracting the measuring tape, he spied a car out of the corner of his eye. He didn't pay much attention to it until it slowly rolled to a stop across the street, then he heard the sound of a car door opening, followed by the unmistakable sound of Orihime's feminine voice bidding someone goodbye. Feeling more curious than he should, he turned around and tried to get a look at this supposedly perfect man. The car windows were tinted, though, and Renji had sunglasses on to boot, so all he caught was the slim silhouette of a man with about jaw-length hair. And then the car was gone, leaving Orihime waving at it until it turned around a corner and went out of sight.

Renji kept this tidbit to himself only because he suspected that Hanatarou would start waiting outside the shop every day just to catch a glimpse of the car himself. He wouldn't put it past Hanatarou - the kid would probably even skip class to do it.

Actually _,_ that wasn't the only thing that Renji was keeping to himself. He figured that Hanatarou was already miserable enough; if he were to find out that Mr. Perfect was actually having dinner at Tesshou Ramen Shop that night, he would probably have a breakdown.

After the car sped off, Orihime crossed the road and called out a greeting to Renji. Unable to resist, he teased her about her reluctant farewell, and as expected, she had blushed a deep pink, only to surprise him by saying that she was going to introduce her boyfriend to all of them later that evening.

Even though it had absolutely nothing to do with him, Renji found himself all the more curious. While he felt mildly disgusted by his seemingly growing nosiness, he was inwardly happy. This meant he was beginning to adjust to this new life and taking an interest in these warm and friendly people.

As the day progressed, Renji started to feel antsy. What if the guy turned out to be complete jerk? He had a feeling that Orihime was looking forward to showing off her new boyfriend, and would probably be really disappointed if they didn't warm up to the man. He'd only known Orihime for a little over two months, but he'd come to see her as the little sister he never had. Not quite like Rukia, as Rukia was more like a motherly elder sister to him, but a fragile, innocent girl who was so happily in love and could be easily manipulated.

Just like Ichigo.

Renji's breath hitched as the thought suddenly struck him, and he had to reach out to grip the edge of the kitchen counter to hold himself steady. Ichigo wasn't fragile, but he was innocent, and Renji had ruined it all. Suddenly depressed, he tried to focus his thoughts on picturing Hanatarou's reaction instead. Would the boy keel over in shock, or would he start bawling?

To distract himself further, Renji took it upon himself to take out the garbage. It was usually Tessai's job, as those things could be really heavy, but Renji was just as strong, if not more. He gathered a good three bags of food scraps, torn packaging, and miscellaneous trash, then waddled toward the squeaky metal door in the back of the kitchen. Grunting, he kicked the door open and hauled the bags outside, then put them into the large communal bins according to the type of waste.

When he went back inside, he was greeted with a teary-faced Hanatarou.

"H-he's here!" he stammered, clearly distraught.

For a moment, Renji was confused. "Who?"

Then, he understood.

Hanatarou let out a small sniff and launched himself at Renji, wrapping his arms around Renji's torso and burying his face into Renji's shirt. Caught by surprise, all he could do was stand there awkwardly.

Just then, Tessai entered through the curtain that separated the dining area and the kitchen. At first, he didn't notice the two of them and simply hollered for Hanatarou to prepare a bowl of extra broth, then he stopped short at the sight of them. He raised his eyebrows and gave Renji a curious look, since he was in the dark on the boy's little crush.

"I'll get it," Renji offered. Trying his best not to touch Hanatarou with his dirty hands, he slowly untangled himself from the boy's grasp. After a thorough scrub of his hands in the sink, he donned his apron again and grabbed a bowl.

"He's really good-looking," Hanatarou mumbled, tagging behind as Renji filled the bowl with steaming hot tonkotsu broth.

Renji wasn't sure how to comfort the kid, so he merely gave him a sympathetic look and began to throw in the garnishing. "I'll talk to you when I get back, okay?" he said, hoping that Hanatarou would pull himself together soon. The boy nodded unhappily.

Holding the bowl in his hands, Renji ducked through the curtains and headed to the small cabinet next to the cash register that held plastic trays and utensils. After some precarious balancing attempts, he finally got the bowl on a tray and looked to Tessai for instructions.

"Orihime's boy, over there, with the orange hair," Tessai pointed towards the entrance.

Renji's head snapped to the direction at the mention of orange hair and promptly spilled the soup over his hand. Swallowing a hiss of pain, he almost lost his grip on the tray, but managed to catch it at the last minute. His hands shaking in shock, he lowered himself behind the cashier counter, then slowly stuck his head out to confirm what he _thought_ he had just seen.

There, sitting at a table next to the window, was a young man with a head of vibrant orange hair. He had his back towards Renji, but there was no denying it - the hair was longer than he remembered it, the shoulders slightly broader, the arms better defined, but Renji had no doubt who they belonged to. His eyes went wide in disbelief as the realization gradually sank in.

 _Ichigo_ was Mr. Perfect?

Renji went completely still as shock was suddenly replaced by an intense rush of longing. Before he knew it, his heart was pounding erratically, threatening to leave his chest and crawl up into his throat. He had been so certain that he would never see Ichigo again, yet here he was, in the flesh, sitting there within reach. All he needed to do was walk up there. It was _so_ tempting, so, so tempting.

"Your hand is all red," Tessai suddenly said in Renji's ear, nearly causing another spill. Renji looked up to see the man crouched next to him, peering at him with concern. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," Renji mumbled hastily. "I'm sorry, I'll go get another bowl."

Tessai pressed a hand on Renji's shoulder and took the bowl from him. "You will do no such thing," he said gravely. " Get up and let Hanatarou take a look at your hand."

Renji's mind was so blank by that point that it didn't even occur to him to protest. He still couldn't believe it. _Ichigo_. Ichigo, whose photo he had been carrying with him every day for the past few years, was sitting right there eating ramen in this very shop. And to top it off, he had apparently been back in this town for at least two months, and was currently _dating_ Orihime.

Fate was a cruel, unpredictable creature. Renji remembered that Ichigo came from a small town, but he didn't remember the name of the town. What were the chances that it turned out to be Karakura? He stumbled into the kitchen, cradling his injured hand. He could see that it was pink where the soup had spilled onto the skin, but the pain was nothing compared to the tightness in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to rush up to Ichigo and hold him and tell him how sorry he was, but another part of him was telling him to run - run while he still could, before he ruined Ichigo's life again. There was no way he could avoid the boy forever, not when Orihime worked here.

In fact - Renji's brows furrowed at the thought - how was it that Ichigo didn't already know that he was here? Then he chided himself for over-thinking; he had no reason to assume that Orihime would tell the guy anything about her co workers, especially him. He was new after all, and had just started working here right before Ichigo's return. There was no reason why the girl would mention another guy to Ichigo when she was completely smitten with Ichigo.

Renji resisted the urge to massage his temples as he felt a headache coming on. His effort on self restraint came out in the form of a grimace, and Hanatarou took it as a sign that Renji was in pain.

"It's okay, it will just be a little tender for a couple of days, I don't think it will blister," Hanatarou said, dabbing a cooling ointment onto Renji's skin.

Renji grunted, not really paying attention. He needed to leave, he couldn't stay here while Ichigo was right outside.

"I'm sorry, Hanatarou, can you please tell Tessai-san that I need to leave? I'm not feeling that well," Renji said, feeling his cheeks heat up as he lied.

Hanatarou nodded and carefully tucked the first aid kit away. "Take care," he said, looking a little worried. "Try to keep you hand dry for a while."

Renji gave him a curt nod and quickly grabbed his jacket, then he left through the backdoor.

* * *

When Renji arrived at Ukitake's house, he slid his key into the front door, only to find that it wasn't locked. He was surprised; Ukitake and his wife were both cautious people, it was unlikely that they would just _forget_ to lock it. Then, he heard voices from the dining room and realized that Ukitake had a visitor.

The dining room was on the way to the stairs, so Renji had no choice but to walk past it even though he didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment. He tried to hurry by and hopefully avoid detection, but Ukitake saw him immediately.

"Renji-kun, let me introduce you to an old friend of mine," Ukitake said, gesturing to a middle-aged man seated next to him. "This is Kurosaki-sensei, my doctor and good friend. Kurosaki-sensei, this is Renji-kun, who's staying with us."

Renji felt air leave his lungs. _Kurosaki?_

The man made a face and complained, "Juushirou, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Isshin? You make me feel so old!" Then, he turned back around and stood up to offer his hand to Renji.

Renji continued to gape, unable to move a muscle. Could the day be any worse? He searched the stranger's face for signs of the man's relation to Ichigo but found none. The glaring difference being that the man had short, spiky _black_ hair, and he was tall, almost Renji's height, and stocky, with a thick neck, broad shoulders, and large hands. Surely this must be just a distant relative?

Renji's stunned reaction - and his very limp handshake - went unnoticed as Ukitake let out a good-natured laugh. "Old habits die hard, Isshin," the white-haired man chuckled, patting his friend's shoulder as Isshin sat back down. "Or should I call you 'Old Goat'? Does Ichigo-kun still call you that?"

Isshin groaned and rubbed his face. "Oh, that's not the only thing he calls me, and _none_ of them sound good," he whined dejectedly. "You would think a kid would have more respect for his father."

 _Father?_ Renji felt his jaw drop, and hastily snapped his mouth shut before they questioned his odd behavior. There was _no way_ this was Ichigo's father, was there? Ichigo was wiry and slim, his fingers elegant and long, and he had _orange hair_ for fuck's sake. Renji knew for a fact that Ichigo's hair color was natural, so he had simply assumed that Ichigo's entire family had the same hair color and had never asked about it.

Ukitake laughed again, his voice sounding slightly breathless towards the end. "Ah, you complain," he chided his friend. "In truth you can't be happier now that he's back home."

Isshin's feigned sad face was immediately replaced by a wide grin, and his chest puffed up, clearly feeling proud of his son.

"And isn't he dating that pretty girl, what's her name…" Ukitake's wife said, her brows drawn together as she tried to recall the name.

Renji nearly blurted out Orihime's name, but managed to catch himself in time. That would be a disaster - Ukitake would ask him how he knew, and then that would lead to questions about how he knew Ichigo; things would go nowhere else but downhill then.

"Orihime," Isshin supplied, his smile brightening. "Inoue Orihime, the prettiest girl in Ichigo's high school class back then."

By this point, Renji was thinking furiously of a way to extract himself from this conversation. The last thing he wanted to do was to stand here and hear about Ichigo and his new relationship. Luckily for him, Ukitake seemed to have detected his awkwardness and offered him a way out. "I'm sorry, don't let us keep you," the man said gently. "I know you were on your way back to your room. You must be tired."

"Yes, I'm kinda…yeah," Renji mumbled, thankful for the escape. "Good night." Then he bowed his head and practically jogged up the stairs.

Half way up, though, he slowed down. Even though he was out of sight, their voices still carried from the dining room. They were still talking about Ichigo, and Renji suddenly found himself unable to budge from his spot on the stairs. So, he slowly slid down against the wall and crouched down on one of the steps, and listened.

The next few minutes felt like an eternity to Renji, his emotions switching from happiness to regret to pride to anguish as though someone was using his gut as a mixing bowl. He didn't know that Ichigo used be one of the top students in high school, nor did he know that Ichigo started karate lessons at the tender age of four. He didn't know that Ichigo used to get into fights in school. He didn't know how fiercely protective Ichigo was of his twin sisters. He didn't know how hard Ichigo had to work in order to get that precious scholarship that finally gave him the opportunity to go to a college outside of Japan.

The longer Renji listened, the heavier his heart became. Ichigo had been a normal, hardworking young man with a bright future, and Renji had destroyed that innocence because of his cowardice and selfishness. If he hadn't given into the childish dare to steal that Porsche that one time, if he hadn't boasted about it to Shuuhei, if he hadn't been so afraid of being exiled from a family that never really welcomed him in the first place...God, how could he have been so stupid?

He would have to leave Karakura, he realized with a sinking stomach. It was a horrifying thought. He had just settled down into his new life - a steady job, new friends, a sense of independence, and now he had to leave all these behind and start over again. Still, it was better than the alternative; he couldn't afford to let Ichigo see him, not after the boy had thought he was dead all these years. No matter how much he wanted to see Ichigo, he knew he mustn't. Ichigo had suffered enough and deserved a normal, happy life, which, judging by his father's description, was exactly what he had now, and there was no place for Renji in that life.

The headache that he had foreseen at the ramen shop hit him in full force, and he clenched his jaw against the insistent throbbing behind his eyes. Suppressing a groan, he stood up and dragged himself back to his room on unsteady legs. He had somehow avoided detection for two months, he could afford at least one more week to figure out where he could go.

* * *

**To be continued...**

**Nope, no reunion _yet_ , but we all know that it will happen eventually. In the meantime, I'll let you guys stew a bit over the "how". XD**

**By the way, someone asked me about that May 12th, sophomore year incident...I didn't give a whole lot of details, but it's the "robbery and grand theft auto" that Starrk mentioned briefly in Chapter 6. I threw in a tiny bit more detail here just for good measure. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

One week. After one week, Renji would leave his new life behind and start over somewhere else, somewhere far away from Karakura. It was a deadline that Renji set for himself, both to minimize the probability of him running into Ichigo and to prevent himself from giving in to the urge to see Ichigo.

But before he left, there were a few things that he wanted to do. Most important of all was giving something back to the kind couple who had taken him in so graciously. He knew that Ukitake and his wife were not particularly needy or poor, but there were things that he could do, such as repainting the house and replacing some of the items in the house. Unohana could use a new blender - Renji knew how much Ukitake liked fresh fruit smoothies, and Ukitake could use a new television. These would take a good chunk out of his humble amount of savings, but it was the least he could do.

Using his injured hand as an excuse, he managed to coax Hanatarou into exchanging a shift with him early in the week so that he could run to the mall to buy the things on his shopping list.

In the months Renji had been in Karakura, he'd never gone to the mall before. It was, naturally, very small compared to the ones he was used to in his hometown, but a quick scan of the store directory told him that it had everything he needed.

Taking the escalator, Renji made his way to the home goods store. It didn't take him long to pick up Unohana's blender, mostly because he simply let the sales lady make the selection for him.

His second destination, the electronics store, was a lot more interesting. Still, he wasn't prepared for the unbelievably large array of options, even with his tight budget. Just the variations of features alone was enough to make him sag against the wall in the dismay.

Overloaded with information from the salesman, he grabbed a few brochures and asked for a moment alone to make his decision. Lugging the bag that held the blender with him, he planted himself in front of the rows of TV on display and slowly examined the ones that he could afford.

The store had clear glass walls, and the TVs were lined up neatly along the wall, and it was there, standing in front of the displays, that Renji saw them.

He was reading one of the brochures in his hands when a young couple entered his field of vision through the glass doors of the store right opposite of where he was. The girl was wearing a pair of low-rise jeans that hugged her curves at all the right places, along with a beige laced top that complemented her generous breasts. But it was the man that stole Renji's breath.

The first thing that caught his eye was the hair. It was an outrageous shade of orange, styled with messy bangs that hung over the man's forehead. It was longer at the back, ending just above the slope of those broad shoulders.

Renji had never pictured Ichigo with long hair before; while it was surprising, it was a good look for him. It made him look a little older, his face a little slimmer. The maroon V-neck sweater that he was wearing was a perfect fit for his slender, flat torso, and the rolled up sleeves exposed a pair of well toned forearms. Back straight and shoulders squared, he towered over Orihime, making her look even more petite than she already was.

Ichigo had grown up.

Renji looked on as Orihime turned to Ichigo and stood up on her tip toes to give him a peck on the lips. Ichigo laughed and wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to whisper into her ear. The girl playfully pushed him away and pouted. Renji saw her lips move but couldn't make out what she was saying, but whatever it was made Ichigo laugh harder. Then she passed him her handbag and gave him another kiss on his lips before walking further into the store.

Renji stood rooted on the spot, not wanting to intrude on their private moment yet unable to tear his eyes away. They looked just like any other new couple - loving and happy and oblivious to everything but each other. Even from a distance, Renji could see the contented smile on Ichigo's face as he slung his girlfriend's handbag over his shoulder.

Renji knew he should smile, but his lips refused to move. His eyes were beginning to sting. Fate was cruel indeed. He wanted the best for Ichigo, but he never wished for a front row seat to witness Ichigo's new love life.

Renji blew out a shaky breath and willed himself to calm down. He was being selfish, and he needed to stop. Wasn't this what he had told himself over the years, that all he wished for was that Ichigo would move on and live a normal life? Ichigo was happy, and that was all that mattered.

"Have you decided, sir?" a voice interrupted, shattering the moment and pulling Renji from his thoughts.

Renji blinked, realizing that he had already forgotten everything that he had read about the TVs in front of him. "Why don't you pick one for me," he said to the stunned salesman. As the man praised him for his wise decision, Renji finally turned away from the window.

The rest of the process was simple; after he provided the address and date of delivery, the cashier rung up his purchase. The set that the salesman selected for him was a little over his budget, but he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He just wanted to leave.

* * *

Ichigo opened the door to his bedroom and flipped on the lights. He was so exhausted that it was all he could do to drag himself to his bed and collapse in it. Shopping was hard work, he realized with surprise. He had lost count of the number of stores they'd gone to. His arms ached from carrying so many paper bags, and his back ached from being on his feet almost the entire day. How Orihime could still prance around at the end of the day, he had no idea. He must be getting out of shape.

He hadn't worked out much since his return from America. The campus gym was free - or rather, it was already included in his fees, so he had taken full advantage of that. But now, he'd have to sign up for a gym membership, and he'd been too busy with his new job to do it. Not to mention, dating took up whatever time and energy he had left.

Deciding that it was too gross to sleep in his sweat, Ichigo peeled himself off the bed reluctantly and staggered over to the bathroom. Before he stepped in, he pulled his sweater over his head and flung it carelessly on the floor. Then, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. With a few deft tugs, he was down to his boxers.

Here, he slowed down. He always did.

As if in a trance, he walked over to his full length mirror and stood before it. Slowly, he pulled the waistband over his hips and let the boxers slide down his thighs, exposing a small, tattoo on his prominent hip bone. He dragged his thumb over the design - a jagged lightning bolt - and rubbed it absently like he always did.

Over the years, it had become a ritual. In the beginning, his eyes would redden whenever he saw the tattoo, but now, touching it like this calmed him. This was a little piece of Renji, after all.

Yes, Renji - the first person he had ever truly loved in his life, who also happened to be dead for three years.

When he was first released from the hospital, he was numb to the world. He felt nothing about what Shuuhei did to him. After his first breakdown over Renji when Starrk told him about the redhead's death, he never spoke of it again. He went through days robotically, speaking only when he was spoken to. He slept alright, ate alright, but he just wasn't _there_.

And then Starrk introduced a friend to him. Dr. Hirako Shinji is a therapist, Starrk had said at the time. He can help you, Starrk said. Ichigo didn't protest because he didn't care. He couldn't _feel_ anything, and nobody could help him.

But all it took was one hour with Dr. Hirako, and Ichigo crumbled like an imploded building. When the session ended, he was a wreck. He didn't know how the doctor did it, and still didn't. In the end, Dr. Hirako had turned out to be a valuable friend, supporting Ichigo as he patch up the pieces, bit by bit.

Everyone told him that he needed to let go. They said that it was unhealthy, that he should move on with his life. And Ichigo tried, he tried _very_ hard. The only thing that worked, as he found out, was to throw all his energy into school. So, that was what he did, and he'd ended up graduating with two majors.

Still, his thoughts always went back to Renji whenever he was alone. One day, on an impulse, he walked into a tattoo parlor and came out with _this_. He never told anyone for fear that they would think that he had relapsed, and it became his little secret, one final little connection between him and Renji.

He had never been able to find out _how_ Renji died. He knew that he had died from gunshot wounds, but that was it. He had tried asking - why did Shuuhei shoot him, how many times was he shot, was it an accident; but nobody was willing to tell him. He didn't know why he needed to know; what difference would it make? Renji was gone and that was that.

He knew he wasn't being rational, but it wasn't something he could control. He didn't have a switch in his head that he could conveniently flip. He had to admit, though, that it was getting better. Progress was slow, but time was a very good healer. He didn't think it would ever heal completely, but perhaps one day he wouldn't need to spend hours rubbing his hip like some creep.

Ichigo sighed as his fingers linger on that same spot. Sooner or later someone would see it, especially now that he was dating. Orihime was a sweet and innocent kind of girl, the furthest they had gone was french kissing and a little bit of fondling; it would be a while yet before he had to answer the inevitable inquiry into the significance of the little tattoo.

Truth be told, dating was the furthest thing in his mind when he first arrived back in Japan. But then he had met Orihime again - the first time after more than four years. He knew that she had always had a crush on him all throughout high school, and it touched him to see that the affection never went away. They were both single, he got along well with her; he didn't see why he shouldn't give them both a chance. Orihime was everything that he needed and wanted now. She was devoted to him, beautiful, bubbly, bringing a ray of sunshine and more into his life. His family loved her; his father especially, and Yuzu. She would be the perfect daughter-in-law.

Yet, that man at the cash register in the electronics store…

Ichigo scowled at his own reflection. He needed to pull himself together. He couldn't afford to suffer a breakdown every time he saw something that reminded him of the redhead. He wasn't single anymore; the time to wallow in the memory of someone else - someone _dead_ \- was over.

Finally dropping his boxers onto the floor, he kicked it aside and padded into the bathroom.

* * *

When his alarm shrieked right next to his ear, Ichigo slammed his palm onto his phone and groped blindly for the snooze button. A few tries later, the room fell blissfully silent once more, and he threw the covers over himself and snuggled deeper into the warmth of his bed. A few more seconds, he could afford a few more seconds.

The next thing he knew, his phone was screeching again, and he finally pulled himself upright. Head heavy with sleep, he dug the heels of his palms into his eyelids and rubbed furiously, as though doing that could make him more awake.

It didn't help the slightest bit, of course. But like it or not, it was time to get up. He had a long day ahead; midterms were coming up, and his students were beginning to get antsy and irritable under pressure.

Yawning loudly, Ichigo trudged to the sink to brush his teeth and wash his face. When he looked into the mirror, he winced; the sleepless night showed clearly on his face. He groaned and let his forehead fall forward and rest against the mirror. This was what he got for allowing his mind wander so far into the past.

He'd had trouble sleeping last night even though his body was dead tired. Lying on his back, he had closed his eyes and tried to let his mind drift off, but all he saw were images of the guy he saw at the mall. It was ridiculous; all he had seen was the man's back really. He just happened to catch a glimpse of the man as he surveyed the stores around him, having nothing better to do while he waited for Orihime to try on a dress that she liked. The man was wearing a beanie and an oversized jacket that covered everything that he could've used to identify Renji, yet he had felt a shock - something akin to a jolt of electricity - when he saw him. And just like that, a little spark of hope had taken root in his heart, and he just couldn't stop thinking about that stranger at the mall.

But of course he was just being stupid. Renji was _dead_.

After banging his head a few times on the mirror, he went through the rest of his morning routine in silence. He slipped on a pair of black slacks and white button-up shirt, then he stuffed a tie into his pocket to be worn later. A quick scan of his desk told him that his wallet and keys were likely still in the pair of jeans he wore yesterday, so he went over to the pile of discarded clothing and began to dig for them.

Ichigo muttered a surprised "eh?" when his digging brought out not just his wallet and keys, but also a pink and silver cellphone. Then he remembered - Orihime had asked him to hold on to her phone while she tried on some clothes. He must've forgotten to give it back to her. His lips curled into a half smile as he imagined his girlfriend's frantic expression when she finally realized that her phone wasn't with her. Knowing her scatterbrained personality, she probably hadn't realized it yet.

He slipped Orihime's phone into his briefcase. She had a noon shift at the ramen shop today, which was why he didn't give her a ride to work, but he could easily stop by on the way to school and drop the phone off for her. She would probably appreciate that.

The shop was still closed when Ichigo pulled up in front of it, but he knew that the owner would be there, so he got down anyway and walked up to the door. He gave it a tentative push, then, finding that it was unlocked, he let himself in.

"Hello?" he called out. "Tsukabishi-san?"

A muffled voice replied from the kitchen, then the tall, burly shopkeeper appeared between the curtains that hid the kitchen from the diners. The man's eyes widened in recognition. "Ichigo-kun!"

"Good morning!" Ichigo greeted. He fished Orihime's cell out of his briefcase and handed it over to Tessai. "She left it with me, can you please give it to her when she comes in?"

Tessai took the phone. "Of course," he said. "Would you like to have breakfast? I was just making my own…"

"Nah, I have to go," Ichigo replied, gesturing to his watch.

The shopkeeper nodded in understanding, and Ichigo turned to leave. Walking up to the wooden door, he reached out to pull the door open. But just as his fingers were about to touch the door, it flung open inwards, hitting him squarely in the face. With a yelp, he grabbed his nose and staggered backwards. He heard Tessai cry out in dismay, then someone grabbed his arm to keep him from falling.

"Sorry!" a voice said hastily.

Ichigo's heart skidded to a halt. Still holding his nose, he looked up and stared. His briefcase crashed to the floor.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	10. Chapter 10

Renji didn't think anyone would be near the door when he came in with his painting tools. Who the hell would stand behind the door, inside Tesshou Ramen Shop, at six in the freaking morning?

But, judging from the yelp that immediately followed his vicious kick to the door, someone was there alright. His vision was mostly blocked by the tall paper bag he was cradling against his chest, so he reacted by reflex. Before he knew it, he was holding someone's arm in one hand, and then he'd blurted out an apology, hoping fervently that he hadn't broken anybody's nose.

Then, only then, did he recognize the pale face in front of him.

He was running away from the door before it actually registered in his head. Somehow, he still had the sense to hold on to the paper bag, but he had no control over his legs. Only one mantra echoed in his head: _shit shit shit shit,_ over and over again as he raced down the street. He had no idea where he was heading, he just knew that it had to be _away_ from where he had just been.

The shouts didn't reach his ears until they were coming right behind him, practically being yelled into his ears. Then a strong arm grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt, and he was yanked backwards. This time, the paper bag slipped from his hold and went crashing onto the floor as he, too, landed hard on his ass. Paintbrushes, measuring tape, duct tape, rubber gloves - all of his painting supplies practically burst out from the bag as it ripped.

Renji struggled, his instincts to flee kicking in even as his cheeks burned with shame. Running, all he ever did was running. But he couldn't twist out of the iron grip on his t-shirt, and finally, after what felt like a century, he gave up. He could feel Ichigo's laser-like gaze on him, but he refused to turn around. A hand ripped off his beanie rudely, and he heard a choked gasp as the tattoos on his forehead were revealed.

He didn't know what to do. It was over. All the hard work he had put in to wipe out his own existence from Ichigo's life was ruined in that one fateful moment. If only he hadn't overslept this morning, if only he hadn't decided to paint exterior of the shop today, if only he had spent ten extra minutes in the bathroom; so many things could've saved him from this but _no_...it just _had_ to happen.

"R-renji?"

Renji could hardly recognize Ichigo's voice. It was thick and strained, like he had something stuck in his throat.

What Renji _really_ wanted to do now was to slap the kid's hand away, but he couldn't do it, especially not after hearing Ichigo saying his name like this.

"H-how?"

Renji felt himself being pulled closer to Ichigo, and when he still wouldn't look at the younger man, he felt fingers grab a fistful of his short, spiky hair and forcefully yanked his head around. With his face tilted at an awkward angle, he had no choice but to finally look up into the pair of wide, coffee-colored eyes hovering barely inches away.

"I thought you were dead! What happened? Tell me!" Ichigo screamed and shook Renji. Ichigo looked overwhelmed, but whether it was by anger or relief or sadness, Renji couldn't tell because Ichigo looked like all three. But what he _could_ tell was that they were causing a scene. Passerby were slowing down and giving them odd looks, which wasn't that surprising given that they were both crouched on the sidewalk and Ichigo was shaking him like a broken rag doll.

"Let go," Renji said quietly.

Ichigo's eyes went even wider as he stared at Renji in disbelief. " _Let go?_ " he sputtered. "All this while I thought you were dead, then I meet you out of the blue and all you have to say is _let go?"_

Renji opened his mouth to beg Ichigo to calm down, but the next thing he knew, he was tackled by the boy. Ichigo's weight threatened to crush him into the ground, and Renji had no choice but to hold him up. He could feel Ichigo trembling in his arms, and it tore at his heart to see the boy breaking into pieces in front of him.

In a perfect world, this would be the touching moment where he and Ichigo reunited after years of being apart. In a perfect world, he would pull Ichigo close to his chest and whisper soothing words in his ears and tell him how much he loved him. And in a perfect world, Ichigo would nod and tell him that he was forever his, and they would never be apart again.

But this wasn't a perfect world.

"I've missed you so much," Ichigo whispered, his face buried in Renji's neck. Renji felt something hot and wet against his skin and, with a sinking stomach, realized that the boy was crying. "I fucking _mourned_ for you! I've never stopped mourning..." The tears slid down Renji's neck. "How could you do this to me?"

Renji swallowed and tried to untangle himself from Ichigo's embrace. "I'm not what you think I am," he said as calmly as he could. He pried Ichigo's hand from his shoulders. He didn't like what he was going to say next, but he was grasping at straws now. "You're just some kid who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, a convenient toy."

"What?" Ichigo peeled himself off Renji's body and stared at him, hurt and disbelief written clearly on his face.

Renji put on a scowl, which he prayed would look at least half fierce. "Go back to your perfect life, Kurosaki."

Ichigo's face paled. "You don't mean it," he said stiffly.

"Yes, I do." Renji forced some spite into his voice even though his throat ached just to speak. He picked himself up from the sidewalk and pushed Ichigo away.

Ichigo seemed too shocked to stop him, and Renji took the opportunity to quickly gather up his paint supplies and leave. He couldn't go back to the ramen shop. Ichigo would probably wait for him there, and if not, Tessai would definitely be there. He didn't know how much the older man had overheard, but just his reaction alone was worth several questions. He could hear it in his head already - why did you run, do you know Ichigo-kun, how did you know each other, how long have you known each other, why didn't you tell us that you knew him?

He knew that Ichigo was still standing behind him watching him walk away; he could feel the boy's eyes on him. His neck was still moist with Ichigo's tears, and it made him want to throw up to think that all those tears were shed for him. He wasn't worth it. _Definitely_ not worth it, especially now that he had just driven the stake even deeper through the boy's chest. He had an idea of how Ichigo felt about him - Starrk had told him enough - but hearing about it and seeing it with his own eyes were shockingly different.

He hated to blow Tessai off like this, but it looked like he would have to leave as soon as he finished up what he needed to do for Ukitake. Cradling the ruptured paper bag tighter to his chest, he quickened his pace and hurried back to his makeshift home.

* * *

Ichigo couldn't believe it.

Renji was _alive._ And not only that, he was _right here_. In Karakura, where Ichigo had grown up. What were the chances?

It could only mean one thing: fate wanted them to meet again. But Renji was ruining it all by walking away and saying all these hurtful things. Did he really mean it? Surely he didn't. He wanted to run up to Renji again and stop him, but he knew that was useless. The redhead was as stubborn as he was, if not more.

Ichigo had a million questions in his head. His life had just been tossed upside down in a matter of seconds, and he hadn't the slightest clue what to do about it. He felt...lost.

A soft beep from his watch told him that he was going to be late for work. Confused and angry as he was, Ichigo knew he had no choice but to leave now. Damned if he knew how he was going to go through his lessons with his mind fried like this, but he would do what he could.

Two hours later, he realized that he couldn't do _anything_. He was late for his first lesson, and he had blabbered like an idiot in class. He saw the concerned frowns on his students' faces, but he couldn't slow down. He had to keep going, otherwise he was going to break down again, and this time, he didn't know if he could pick himself up.

Then his lessons ended, and he was faced with two hours of desk time, which he was supposed to use to grade papers. He tried, but the pieces of paper weren't making any sense. The answers didn't seem to fit the questions, the kids' handwriting all seem like chicken scratch and he could hardly read them. He bit back a groan and clutched his pen tighter in his fist.

The sound of someone clearing their throat jolted Ichigo out of his thoughts, and he jumped in his seat, startled.

"Are you alright, Kurosaki-sensei?"

Ichigo turned to see the school principle peering at him, his brows drawn together in concern and curiosity.

"I'm fine, thank you, Hitsugaya-kouchou," Ichigo replied hastily. His young superior wasn't hostile, but he carried an intimidating aura with him despite his short stature and boyish face.

The school principal wrinkled his nose skeptically. "Excuse me for my bluntness, but you look quite ill," he said.

It was only then did Ichigo notice that his palms were clammy and ice-cold, and now that he noticed it, he also felt nauseous and light-headed.

"You should take the rest of the day off," Hitsugaya insisted sternly. "It won't do if the children caught something from you." He sounded cold, but Ichigo could see the worry in the principal's eyes, and he found himself agreeing.

With a weak smile, Ichigo swept his books and papers into his briefcase and stood up. Hitsugaya gave him a curt nod and walked away, leaving Ichigo to stumble his way out of the staff room on unsteady legs.

Ichigo slid into the driver's seat in his car and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He hated the fact that he had let his personal issues affect his professional life, but he just couldn't pull himself together. How could he? He had just found out that someone whom he had mourned for over three years was in fact alive and kicking, and it didn't help that Renji was being such an asshole. Was it true, that he was nothing but a "convenient toy" to Renji?

And then Ichigo paused as he thought of something; did Starrk know that Renji was alive?

At the thought of his former roommate, Ichigo straightened up in his seat. _Starrk._ Fine, if Renji refused to talk to him, he could always ask Starrk. After all, Starrk had been the one to tell him about Renji's "death". Of course, it was possible that Renji had been hiding from Starrk, and even from the police, but it seemed highly unlikely.

Ichigo needed answers, and he needed them _now_. With a firm grip on the gear stick, he threw the car in reverse and peeled out of the school parking lot.

* * *

"One more, please," Renji rasped, waving to catch the bartender's attention. A cold bottle was placed in front of him in a matter of seconds, and he reached out for it at once.

It was pathetic how easily he had fallen back to his old habit. He hadn't touched alcohol in _years_ , but here he was, back at a bar to drown his sorrows. He felt sick inside for being so damn weak, but he didn't know what else to do. After leaving Ichigo at the sidewalk, he had hurried back to Ukitake's house and spent the rest of the day painting the house, focusing on places that needed it the most. He had wanted to paint the entire place, but now that his time here was cut short, he'd just have to do what he could. He knew his recent behavior was making the older couple worried, but they were too polite to ask him about it. They would know eventually; he would have to tell them in the next couple of days that he was leaving. They would no doubt ask why, and where he was going. He would just have to lie. _Again_.

It was a terrible habit - lying. One lie simply led to another, and the next thing he knew, his life was nothing but a badly spun web, and now his web was falling apart. He had done what he did thinking that it was a way for Ichigo to leave all those bad memories behind _completely_ , and, well, what could be more absolute than his death? With him out of the picture, the boy could have a fresh beginning - that was what he had thought.

And look how great that had turned out.

The bitter liquid burned as it slid down Renji's throat, but he liked the heat it brought to his insides. He could feel his muscles relax as the warmth spread quickly to his entire body. A part of him felt ashamed for indulging in this temporary escape, but it was an escape nonetheless.

Before he knew it, that second bottle was dry, and he fished out his wallet to count his money. One more; he could afford one more, then he would have to drag his sorry ass back and hope that Ukitake won't catch him looking like that. He took out the amount he needed and placed the bills on the counter, then he called for the bartender.

"Make that two."

Renji didn't have to turn around to know who that was. Blowing out a sigh, he closed his eyes. He just couldn't catch a break.

"You haven't changed one bit," Ichigo said softly. "I knew I'd find you in a bar. Good thing Karakura doesn't have many."

There was no point avoiding the confrontation this time. "Good for you," Renji said, his voice equally low. "Now leave me alone."

"No." Ichigo climbed onto the bar stool next to Renji and planted himself there.

Renji shot him a glare, then turned away as his drink arrived. Ichigo's arrived as well, and the two of them drank in silence. Tension climbed, as did the awkwardness between them, but neither spoke. Renji, for his part, had no idea what he could say. Obviously his pathetic attempt at pushing the boy away with insults didn't work. What could he do then, apologize? He chortled inwardly. That would totally fly.

He didn't know what was going on inside Ichigo's head, but the kid seemed to be equally at a loss for words. Renji risked brief glances at Ichigo as he drank; the younger man appeared deep in thought with a scowl plastered on his face. Ichigo's bottle was only half empty, but his face was already pink. Renji couldn't help smiling to himself. It was almost funny to see how easily the kid got red in the face from alcohol.

But by the time Ichigo finished his second bottle, it wasn't so funny anymore. They still hadn't said anything to each other, but Ichigo was beginning to giggle quietly to himself. Renji frowned; the kid didn't look drunk, but at the pace he was going, he was well on his way.

"Stop it," Renji said before he could stop himself. Had Ichigo not learned his lesson? After all that happened, how could he still sit here, _at a fucking bar_ , drinking with Renji, of all people? He was either really stupid, or he was doing this to spite Renji. If it was the latter, it was definitely working.

Ichigo lifted his head and grinned at Renji. His eyes were red, but they were bright and alert. "Stop what?" he asked.

Renji's hand shot out and snatched the bottle out of Ichigo's grasp. " _This_."

"I'm not drunk," Ichigo scoffed. "Gimme."

"Stop it!" Renji slammed his palm on the counter, causing several heads to turn his direction. "Go home."

Ichigo's grin widened. "Make me."

Renji sucked in a deep breath. Just what in hell was Ichigo doing? First he weeped in the morning, now he's trying to provoke him? "Fine," Renji hissed. "Stay, then." With that, he grabbed his jacket and stalked towards the exit.

He hadn't gotten three steps away from the bar before his wrist was captured in an iron grip.

"I love you," Ichigo blurted, looking pleadingly into Renji's eyes. "Don't go."

Renji's breath caught in his throat. "Love?" he said in disbelief. With a quick twist of his hand, he tore his wrist from Ichigo's grasp. "You're stupider than I thought."

Ichigo frowned, but set his lips in a thin, stubborn line. "I know what I'm doing," he said fiercely. "And I know that I love you, even if it doesn't make sense to you."

"You don't know anything about love!" Renji exploded. How could anyone be so fucking _stupid_? Couldn't Ichigo see that he was scum?

Ichigo's eyes darkened.

* * *

"I do," Ichigo said. Despite his effort to keep his emotions in check, his body was beginning to shake. "Love is when you're willing to die for that person. Love is when you think you're protecting them by _pretending that you're dead!_ "

He felt a surge of satisfaction when Renji's face paled.

"I know everything," he continued. "Starrk told me everything, Renji."

Renji stiffened. "Son of a bitch!"

Ichigo stepped forward. "Don't you talk about Starrk like that," he warned. "He has done more than enough for both of us."

And he had indeed. Ichigo just didn't realize how much until just now. He had raced home from school and searched through his emails for Starrk's contact information, then he had called the man's cell phone, long distance call charges and time difference be damned.

The moment Starrk heard the tone in Ichigo's voice, he knew. The man had fallen silent, so silent, in fact, that Ichigo thought the line had dropped. Then Starrk had sighed and told Ichigo everything - how Renji had put himself between Shuuhei and Ichigo, how he had had to be resuscitated at the scene, how he had ended up in prison, how he had looked forward to Starrk's monthly visits just to hear about Ichigo's life.

Ichigo couldn't begin to imagine what kind of strain this had been on his former roommate, keeping secrets for and from two heartbroken friends and keeping them both sane at the same time. What a balancing act that must have been.

"That's what he thinks," Renji said stubbornly. "I only saved you to reduce my sentence."

"You're a lousy liar," Ichigo pointed out.

Renji raised his voice. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

"I want you to stop running away!" Ichigo yelled back, his patience wearing out.

At his outburst, a few people stopped to gawk at the two of them. They were standing on the sidewalk right outside the bar after all.

"Screw this." Ichigo closed the distance between him and Renji and grabbed the man's wrist before he could protest. Shooting their audience a glare, he dragged the redhead behind him. Renji struggled, but Ichigo simply dug his fingers into the man's skin and kept pulling him towards his car.

"Let…me…go!" Renji grunted.

Ichigo stopped and spun around. "We are going to settle this tonight, one way or another," he hissed in Renji's face. The redhead flinched, and then his shoulders slumped, and Ichigo was able to wrestle him into the passenger seat of his car. After he slammed the door closed, Ichigo stood there and eyed Renji warily. Was Renji going to bolt as soon as he moved away? As if he could sense what Ichigo was thinking, the redhead rolled his eyes and flung up his hands.

Ichigo smiled. This was a start, he supposed. Still keeping an eye on the passenger door, he circled to the driver's seat and slid in. His car was parked close to the bar; their audience were still peering at them through the window, eyes full of curiosity and amusement. Ichigo supposed they couldn't be blamed - it wasn't every day you see a man with fiery red hair arguing with another guy with bright orange hair.

Ichigo started up the engine, and Renji bolted upright in his seat, his hand flying to the door handle.

"Relax," Ichigo sighed. "I'm just going to move the car somewhere with less people." He gestured to the gawkers with his head. After a few seconds, Renji nodded grudgingly.

Ichigo didn't really have a place in mind. He drove slowly through the downtown area and finally found a parking lot that looked promising. It was surrounded by retail stores, which were now closed. He turned into the dimly-lit space and parked the car. He let the engine idle; without the low rumbling sound, the car would be too silent.

For the longest time, neither looked at each other or spoke. Ichigo gripped the steering wheel like it was a lifeboat and stared at his dashboard. His heart was hammering like crazy, he swore Renji could hear it.

"A-are you okay?" Renji's tentative question broke the silence. "I think...I think you're hyperventilating."

Ichigo held his breath and lifted his head. Was he? He must be; he felt dizzy. Instead of replying, he rested his temple on the steering wheel, his head tilted to the side to face Renji. The redhead didn't look too good himself; he had a sheen of sweat on his face, and his hair was damp and matted to his scalp.

"You kept your hair short," Ichigo mumbled, feeling a little wistful. He liked Renji's long hair.

Renji chuckled. "And you grew yours out."

It felt more than a little surreal sitting here having a conversation with someone whom, in his head, had been dead for years, Ichigo decided. He had so many questions, though a lot of them were already answered by Starrk, but he didn't know where to begin.

"I'm sorry," Renji said suddenly. He looked at Ichigo, looking as lost as Ichigo felt.

"It's okay" didn't seem to be the appropriate response here; Ichigo could tell from Renji's eyes that he only blurted out the apology because he didn't know what else to say. What happened between them, to Ichigo, was not something that could be swept away with a simple apology. Ichigo didn't know what he was expecting, really, or what he wanted from Renji. He just knew that he couldn't let him go.

"I really do love you," he found himself saying, then cringed when Renji's eyes narrowed.

"Don't say that," Renji said flatly.

Ichigo frowned. "Why not? It's the truth," he said. "You know that."

Renji clenched his jaw. He looked as though he was torn between hitting Ichigo and jumping out of the car.

"And you love me," Ichigo decided to go for broke. It wasn't like things could get any worse.

"I don't," came the robotic response.

If Starrk hadn't told him about what Renji had done over the years, Ichigo would have felt less confident about this, but Starrk had. "Nobody dies for a 'toy'," Ichigo said.

"I told you, I only did it to reduce my sentence," Renji insisted.

Ichigo blew out an exasperated breath. "You never were any good at lying, Renji," he said. "I always knew when you were lying. You think I didn't know that something was off when I woke up not remembering what happened the night before? You think I really believe that I got drunk?"

That seemed to have hit a nerve, because Renji suddenly grabbed his head and bent over in his seat. Ichigo sat up, knowing instantly that he had gone overboard. Renji had his fingers tangled tightly in his hair like he wanted to pull it out, and he was shaking and making small choking sounds. It was scary to see someone with Renji's built trying to curl himself into a ball, but it was especially scary because it looked so familiar. Ichigo had done that countless times himself during the early phase of his sessions with Dr. Hirako, when he would break down sometimes and scream himself hoarse.

Ichigo did the only thing he could think of. He scrambled over the divider between the driver's and passenger's seat, nearly tripping over the gear stick, and grabbed Renji's shoulders. It was a near impossible task; the space was already cramped with just Renji sitting there, and now Ichigo was trying to squeeze himself between the dashboard and Renji. He knew he was stepping on Renji's feet and his knees were digging into Renji's thighs, but he was desperate. His head bumped into the ceiling of the car, and then he was finally there, half-crouched, half-sitting on Renji's lap in the most awkward and uncomfortable position he had ever been in his life.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Ichigo whispered, trying to pry Renji's hands away from his head. He could see broken strands of hair in Renji's fists, and the redhead was still tugging. "Stop it, stop!" Ichigo gave up on pulling Renji's fingers and instead closed his own palms over Renji's hands and brought their foreheads together. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated frantically.

He didn't know what to do. Dr. Hirako always knew what to do when Ichigo went into this state, but Ichigo wasn't a doctor and he had no idea how to snap Renji out of it. The fact that Renji was so quiet made Ichigo even more worried; he would feel better if Renji was screaming or crying, but these weird strangled groans was making him scared. Using as much strength as he dared without hurting the redhead, he lifted Renji's head and looked closely into the red-rimmed eyes. Renji's eyes were unfocused, and his skin was clammy and cold.

"Look at me," Ichigo said. "Look at me!" The pleas went unheeded, and Ichigo was getting close to sobbing himself. In desperation, he wrapped his arms around Renji's shoulders and hugged the redhead to his chest. He didn't know what good this would do, but it seemed like a natural thing to do. Hugs were supposed to calm people, right?

Ichigo rubbed Renji's back in little circles and rubbed his cheek against the redhead's hair. Ichigo's head was pressing against the car ceiling, and his neck was bent in an odd angle because Renji was still sort of hunched over in the seat, and he had one knee on Renji's thigh and the other knee on the seat between Renji's legs. They were basically a messy tangle of limbs, and Ichigo's muscles were beginning to protest. He let go of Renji for a bit and fumbled blindly for the lever that lowered the back of the car seat. He found it after a few tries, and the car seat suddenly fell back, taking Renji and Ichigo along with it.

Renji fell silent after the sudden movement. Ichigo gently pried the redhead's hands away from his hair, and this time Renji let him. He stared at the large calloused palms in his hand for a moment, feeling a strong urge to kiss them. After a moment's hesitation, he did. He felt Renji's body stiffen when he pressed his lips into the cold palms. Ichigo looked up; Renji was staring at him intently with something like shock and confusion in his eyes.

That's when Ichigo knew exactly what he wanted to do. He let Renji's hands drop down to his sides and crawled a little higher so that his face was directly on top of Renji's. He met Renji's gaze for a brief moment, then he closed his eyes and leaned down. Slowly, lightly, he brushed his lips against Renji's eyebrows, then down to the redhead's eyelids, which had fluttered closed at his first touch. He lingered there for a few seconds, then, taking a deep breath, he pressed his lips on Renji's.

It was just a peck, then he pulled away.

Renji had opened his eyes and was staring at him with an unreadable expression. Was he disgusted? Did he like it? Was he going to run away? Ichigo couldn't tell. So he did it again, this time holding his lips there for a little longer. And then again, and again. With each kiss, he felt his heart pump a little faster. His felt heat creep onto his cheeks; he knew he must be blushing.

The entire time, Renji didn't move a muscle. Ichigo wasn't sure if this was a good sign, but at least he hadn't been thrown off yet. He grew bolder with the next kiss and ran his tongue along Renji's lips. He got a small reaction this time - Renji jumped a little like he was startled. Encouraged by it, he licked between Renji's lips again, trying to coax the redhead to open his mouth.

For the longest time Renji didn't move. Ichigo was going to give up, but then he suddenly felt the lips part just a tiny bit. That was enough; he delved in and sucked on Renji's lower lip, then he slowly slid his tongue between those lips.

Renji let out a soft moan. Ichigo had never heard anything so erotic in his life. He replied with a groan of his own, then he deepened the kiss. It was suddenly unbearably hot in the car; his face, especially, was burning, and he was on fire inside his clothes. He fumbled for the hem of Renji's t-shirt and, when he found it, slipped his hand inside. Renji's body was just as hot; he was a little slimmer than Ichigo remembered, but his torso was smooth and firm and felt perfect under Ichigo's palm.

Ichigo hadn't felt so aroused in a very long time. His hand snaked lower to Renji's jeans and began to tug at the button. It gave way after a few tries, then his fingers scrambled for the zipper. He was _aching_ inside his own pants but he wanted to feel Renji so badly that he didn't care. He breathed harshly against Renji's neck and shuddered when he felt warm hands sliding up his sides. Finally, _finally_ , Renji was responding the way he wanted. Ichigo angled his head and nipped on the soft skin on the redhead's neck. He heard a gasp, then the gasp turned into a drawn out moan when he caressed Renji through his boxers.

This was too much. Ichigo pulled his hands away from Renji and began to undo his own jeans. A few hard tugs brought it down to his thighs, and he immediately pressed their hips together. Renji moaned and bucked beneath him, the friction and sound wringing a growl from the back of Ichigo's throat. He rolled his hips in response, meeting Renji's upward movements. Every touch, every sound was going straight to the pool of heat between his legs, which was building and building at an alarming rate.

But all that came to abrupt end when Renji suddenly whispered, "Orihime."

Ichigo's eyes widened, and he jumped up so high that the back of his head bumped into the car ceiling. Everything in Renji's lust-glazed eyes screamed that he wanted anything but stop, yet he was quickly tucking himself into his pants and pulling on the zipper.

Ichigo had never felt so big of an asshole as he was feeling now. How could he have forgotten?

"I'm sorry," Renji said, not meeting Ichigo's eyes. He was already fully dressed, his t-shirt smoothened down and his messy hair tamed slightly. "I've made a lot of mistakes, I can't make another one."

"I'll fix it," Ichigo said, knowing exactly what he needed to do.

His tone made Renji look up, and when Renji saw the determined set of his jaw, the redhead paled immediately. "No, no you can't do this," Renji sputtered in dismay. "No, no, Ichigo, please!"

Ichigo finished buckling his belt and climbed back over to the driver's seat. "This is _my_ problem now, Renji," he said without looking at the redhead. Then, he shifted the gear into reverse and backed out of the parking lot.

It turned out that Ichigo was familiar with Ukitake's house, and it took them less than ten minutes to get there. He stopped the car and waited for Renji to get out. The redhead tried, again, to talk him out of what he was going to do, but his heart was already set. It was not a matter of _choice_ , Ichigo didn't see why Renji just couldn't get it.

He refused to meet Renji's eyes and simply waited until Renji climbed out and closed the car door, then he sped off. His next step was simple.

* * *

Renji stumbled into his room and went straight to the closet. He grabbed his backpack and started to throw his clothes into it. His hands shook as he tried his best to compress everything into his tiny bag. He would have to apologize to Ukitake; his time had run out and he would have to leave the painting task only partially finished. Hopefully someone else would pick it up next time. At least he had gotten to the worst parts.

It was a good thing that he hadn't accumulated many new things since his arrival, and after some wrestling, he managed to fit his belongings into his bag. He swung it over one shoulder and practically ran out the door.

He was good at running.

* * *

**To be continued...**

**Who do you feel worse for? Ichigo or Renji?**


	11. Chapter 11

A single tear carved a path down Orihime's cheeks, joining countless others that she had already shed. She curled her fingers around the tiny little pendant that Ichigo had given her just a week ago — a pink crystal in the shape of a tear drop, ironically — and brought her fist to her mouth, barely muffling a sob.

She should've known it was too good to be true.

Ichigo was, to her, what the sun was to a planet, and always had been. Ever since she laid eyes on him in high school, she had felt an incredible attraction to him. That stubborn scowl, the perpetually furrowed brows, sparked something in her; she had always wished that she could be the one to put a smile on his face. And, for a brief moment, she was.

Until now.

Ichigo had shown up on her doorstep two hours ago, face serious and determined. Something about his expression told her that her dream was about to come to an end, and it did. Although, it wasn't in a way that she had ever imagined.

Ichigo had been honest and open. He didn't beat around the bush or cook up some half-assed excuse; he didn't pull the "it's not you, it's me" line on her, and for that she was grateful. Her heart broke as he told her about what happened to him in the states; the boy put on a stoic face, but she could hear the slight tremor in his voice.

How anyone could do that to someone as pure as Ichigo was beyond her comprehension. When he was done, she was torn between feeling sad over the end of their relationship and feeling sad for Ichigo and Renji, but one look into the boy's eyes told her enough. The passion that looked back at her was raw and sincere; she knew that he had just bared his soul to her, opened up his old wounds for her sake. He could've given her any explanation and she wouldn't have questioned him; the fact that he had told her the truth meant a lot more to her than Ichigo could ever imagine.

But of course it still hurt, and it would not stop hurting for a while. Her heart ached, but even as she mourned for her own loss, she knew there was someone out there who was hurting even more. In her heart, she already knew what she needed to do.

* * *

The smell of fresh ramen broth lifted Orihime's spirit when she stepped into Tesshou Ramen Shop. It was still early; she had actually never been to the shop so early before, but there was something she wanted to do before work hours began.

"Tsukabishi-san?" she called out tentatively.

The kitchen was dimly-lit, but she thought she saw a hint of movement in there.

"Inoue-san!" her employer emerged between the curtain, surprise clear on his face. "What are you doing here so early? Your shift doesn't start for…" He took a peek at his watch. "…for another four more hours!"

Orihime smiled. "I know," she said. "I'm here to look for Abarai-kun."

"Renji?" Tessai scratched his head and frowned. "You know, I haven't seen him since yesterday. He ran off even before his shift began yesterday, and hasn't shown up since."

"Oh." Orihime bit her lip. Ichigo had told her how he had run into Renji yesterday, but it didn't occur to her that Renji would miss work entirely after that. "I'll wait for him, then," she said.

For a moment, Tessai looked like he wanted to ask her why, but the girl's uncharacteristically sombre face held him back. Orihime was usually happy to share her thoughts, and if she was not offering to share now, it would be rude of him to pry. So he simply nodded and returned to the kitchen.

Orihime followed suit. Since she was here, she might as well help out in the kitchen while she waited. She went to the small closet and picked out a uniform and apron, and went to the restroom to change. Then she took out fresh ingredients from the fridge and set to work.

When Renji still hadn't shown up after she finished dicing a generous pile of garlic, she began to feel worried. By then, since it was Saturday, Hanatarou had arrived for his shift.

Orihime didn't say anything, but Tessai could tell from her constant glances at the door that she was anxious and upset, so he turned to Hanatarou. "Can you check on Renji? He didn't come to work yesterday, and he's late today, I'm a little worried."

Orihime gave Tessai a smile and nodded gratefully to Hanatarou, who sped off immediately.

Not half an hour later, the door burst open and Hanatarou stumbled inside, his face pink from exertion. "He left!" he gasped, bending over to grab his knees as he struggled to recover his breath. When he looked up again, his eyes were wide and panicky. "Ukitake-san said he left them a note and probably left the house some time during the night!"

The knife clattered onto the chopping board as Orihime rushed over to the boy. "What did the note say? Did he say where he was going?"

Tessai came out from the kitchen as well, looking confused but concerned by the unexpected news.

"No, he just apologized for troubling them all this time," Hanatarou said, still breathing harshly. "Ukitake-san doesn't know what happened. What do we do now?"

Before Tessai could respond, Orihime was already running out of the shop, her phone clutched tightly against her ear.

* * *

" _What?_ " Ichigo shot up to his feet, his manners forgotten as he knocked his chair back into the desk of another teacher in the staff room. His student's test became a crumpled mess under his curled fingers.

Orihime sounded just as frantic on the other end of the line. "His landlord said he might have left in the middle of the night!"

"Shit!" Ichigo slammed his fist on his desk, oblivious to the stunned faces turned in his direction.

"I'm going to the bus station!" Orihime said, sounding out of breath. Ichigo could hear sounds of cars honking and people talking in the background. "Do you know where he could've gone? His hometown maybe?"

Ichigo grabbed his head and thought hard. "He has no family," he said, remembering what Starrk had told him. "But he was originally from Tokyo."

"In that case, you check the train station!" Orihime shouted into the phone. "I'll call you if I find anything!"

Ichigo nodded, forgetting that Orihime couldn't see him, and then he ran from the staff room, ignoring the curious stares from his colleagues. He nearly ran into Hitsugaya-kouchou on his way out, who darted aside just in time. Ichigo didn't stop.

He skidded to a halt next to his car and wrenched the door open. Tires squealing, he peeled out of the school parking lot and into the streets. He weaved dangerously in and out of traffic, cutting off other cars and ignoring honks of protest as he sped towards the train station. It was not too far from the school, about fifteen, twenty minutes away, but it might as well be all the way across the country to Ichigo.

Renji had left during the night; that meant he could be _hours_ away from Karakura by now. The one comforting thing was that Karakura was small, so there were probably only a handful of trains leaving the station between the time he dropped Renji off at Ukitake's house and now. Even though Renji no longer had family in Tokyo, that was still his most likely destination. Ichigo hoped fervently that none of those trains were headed there.

But even as he continued to drive his foot into the accelerator, he knew the chances of him finding Renji there were slim.

* * *

Ichigo burst into the train station, his hair wild and his shirt untucked from the sprint from the parking structure. The station was bustling with travelers; people in business suits, tourists, families with children — it would be impossible to find someone in that mess. But he was determined. He would do everything and anything. He had already lost Renji once, he wasn't about to lose him again.

He ran up to the nearest information screen to check the train schedule. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and for that brief moment his world was reduced to that tiny little screen. His heart soared as he saw that the three trains that left during the night were not heading to Tokyo, but it immediately fell to the pit of his stomach when he saw the next entry: Tokyo, departure time 8:05am.

Ichigo whipped up his arm — it was 8am on the dot according to his watch.

Five minutes.

He ran. Extending his arms, Ichigo pushed his way through the throng of bodies surrounding him, heading straight for the turnstiles that separated ticket holders from the general crowd. He needed to get to the platform _now_.

"Hey! Sir, you need a ticket!"

Ignoring the yells from one of the workers at the ticket booth, Ichigo vaulted over a turnstile and landed with a loud thud on the other side. Passengers stared at him; some with shock and curiosity, others with fear. The crowd parted automatically for him as he barreled down the platform, his eyes searching for signs.

"Tokyo! I'm looking for the Tokyo train!" Ichigo grabbed the sleeves of another worker, who hadn't noticed his dramatic entrance.

The man stared at him. "There's one arriving at 10, sir," the man said, not understanding the urgency in Ichigo's voice.

"No!" Ichigo panted, shaking the worker's arm. "The 8:05 train!"

The man blinked, then pointed to his left. Ichigo turned to look at the back of a train, still stopped on the tracks. The word "Tokyo" was displayed on a screen hanging over the platform next to the train.

Ichigo sped off, shoving aside a group of middle-aged women who did not dodge in time. He threw a hasty apology over his shoulder but didn't stop. He could see the conductor peeking out from one of the doors on the train, checking for stragglers.

"Wait!" Ichigo yelled, waving his arms above his head. But the conductor had his back to Ichigo and didn't hear him. The uniformed man did one final sweep of the platform to make sure that nobody was standing near the doors, then he disappeared into the train.

"No! Wait!" Desperation pumped adrenaline into Ichigo's legs, and he shot towards the train in a speed that he had never experienced before. "Stop!" His voice broke as sobs threatened to spill from his throat. He had no concrete proof that Renji was even _on_ that train, but somehow, he just _knew_. He knew deep down that Renji was right there and was about to slip through his fingers again.

A monotonic female voice announced the departure of the train, and with a sudden jerk, the train began to pull away from the station.

"No! Please! Stop!" Ichigo screamed, his lungs protesting as he ran. He was getting closer and closer to the train, almost close enough to see into the windows now. He kept running, but at the same time the train was beginning to speed up. He reached out, his fingers _almost_ close enough to touch the train. His hopes soared for a second, and then his fingers closed around nothing but air as the tracks angled away from the platform and the train went beyond his reach.

"Renji! Please don't leave!" Ichigo's scream rang out into the empty space. A part of him knew that he never stood a chance of catching up with the train right from the beginning, but a bigger part of him clung on to that little sliver of hope; if fate intended for them to meet again, surely it wouldn't be so cruel as to wrench Renji out of his grasp in the end?

But as the train receded from his sight, Ichigo could no longer deny that it was too late. Feeling utterly defeated, he fell to his knees, numb to the pain of the impact.

This was so unfair. He had gone through so much. _They_ had gone through so much. Even if Renji had had a hand in his traumatizing ordeal in the states, he had ultimately sacrificed his life for Ichigo — his entire future, his happiness, even died for him. And Ichigo had mourned him every day, thinking that he really was dead. Why was it so difficult for the redhead to understand that Ichigo _wanted_ him in his life? He didn't want to be protected, to forget that part of his life.

"You selfish bastard!" he cried, unable to contain his anguish. "Who gave you the right to decide what's best for _me_? Who told you that I'd be happier without you? Who!" He lurched forward and pounded his fists on the floor in frustration. "You selfish, selfish bastard!"

Ichigo trembled, torn between sadness and fury. He slammed his fists on the hard concrete again, wishing that it was Renji that he was pummeling instead. The unfairness of it all — the fact that they had to part again all because Renji had _chosen_ this road for them both without Ichigo's consent — was taking over his sorrow and replacing it with white, hot anger. He knew he was being a little dramatic, but he just couldn't keep his emotions bottled up anymore.

"Stupid asshole!" Ichigo choked out. If Renji were here, _oh god_ , if Renji were here, Ichigo was _so_ going to punch him, maybe that would finally punch some sense into the idiot. But of course Renji wasn't here, because he had left him once again.

He heard footsteps approaching him from behind. He didn't turn, didn't look up; after all that pushing and running — and not to mention, his illegal entrance into the ticket holder-only platform, the authorities were no doubt coming after him now.

Damn them all. He would let him drag him wherever they wanted, he had no strength left to fight them.

The footsteps stopped directly behind him.

"Ichigo?"

* * *

Renji stood behind the figure who was on his hands and knees cussing up a storm. Was this really how Ichigo felt, that he was selfish? But that was never his intention, not at all. All he wanted was to give Ichigo the perfect life that he deserved. The boy didn't need this walking, talking mistake that was the embodiment of the darkest moments of his life.

Wasn't this the right thing to do? Wasn't this the best for Ichigo? Renji stared at the boy, stunned beyond belief.

Earlier, he had just hung up the phone in the public phone booth when he heard a commotion somewhere near the turnstiles. He didn't pay it any heed; he had enough trouble on his hands as it was. He didn't have the energy nor interest in poking his nose into other people's business.

After rushing out of Ukitake's house in the middle of the night, he had meant to jump on the first train to Tokyo, but there weren't any heading there until 8:05am. So he had made himself comfortable in the waiting hall, claiming two seats for himself. He was so tired that he had ended up dozing off, and by the time he was jarred awake by the sounds of people gradually filling up the train station, it was already close to seven in the morning. Remembering in horror that he had yet to get his ticket, he jumped to his feet and rushed to the automated ticket booth.

It was there, standing in front of the ticket machine, that he finally realized that he didn't have enough money for the ticket.

How pathetic was that?

After an epic battle between his brain and his pride, he decided that there was only one person he could turn to — Rukia. He couldn't afford a cell phone, so he had gone to the public phone booth and dialed Rukia's number. Half way through, as he listened to the dial tone ringing in his ear, he hung up.

He couldn't do it. He was an adult and it was time to act like one; he couldn't go running to Rukia whenever he needed help.

Running. Wasn't that all he had been doing? His cheeks flared up in shame. And then he heard them — heartbreaking, hoarse pleas for the train to stop.

 _Ichigo_.

Renji's first reaction had been to force his way through the crowd that was beginning to form in front of the turnstiles. People were watching, shocked and confused. So what if the kid missed this train? There was another one coming in less than two hours. They didn't understand.

Renji shoved a few onlookers aside and climbed over the turnstiles. He heard someone yell, probably a guard or a worker, asking him to stop, but he ignored it. He could see Ichigo running ahead of him towards a departing train, screaming for it to stop.

By the time he finally caught up with Ichigo, the boy was pounding the floor like he wanted to crack it open. And then Renji heard everything that spilled freely from Ichigo's lips.

He had never thought of it this way. He had been so sure that it was the honorable thing to do, but _this_ — what he was seeing and hearing now was the exact opposite of what he wanted for Ichigo.

So he did the first thing that came to his mind.

"Ichigo?" he whispered tentatively.

* * *

Ichigo blinked. He was hallucinating. This was it, he had finally snapped. He was beginning to hear things, imagining that Renji was here when he was not.

"Ichigo."

The voice was a little louder this time, then there was soft rustling of cloth, more footsteps, and a pair of feet appeared in front of him. A bag fell to the floor with a dull thud, and someone crouched down in front of him.

"Ichi," Renji's voice said again.

Ichigo finally lifted his head.

He _wasn't_ imagining things. Renji was _right there_ in front of him, looking at him with his brows pulled together in concern. The man looked tired, his hair a little greasy and messy, his clothes wrinkled, but this was no mistake. Ichigo reached out and touched the tattooed forehead, tracing the inked design like he had never seen them before. His fingers brushed lightly along Renji's eyebrows, following the curve down to his cheek, down to the full lips…

And then Ichigo snapped his arm back and swung, his fist connecting with Renji's jaw with a resounding smack.

"You idiot!" Ichigo screamed, scrambling to his feet as Renji fell backwards onto his ass. "Why would you do something so stupid?"

Renji rubbed his jaw and winced. He didn't reply, didn't defend himself; he just stared at Ichigo, his expression a mix of embarrassment, guilt, and surprise.

Ichigo's chest was immediately filled with regret, and he stepped forward to pull Renji up from the floor. Then he tugged hard; Renji crashed into him with a soft "oof", and Ichigo wrapped his arms around the redhead, trapping him flush against his body. He buried his face into Renji's neck and took a deep breath. After a night at the train station without showering, Renji didn't exactly smell the best, but it was the most comforting smell to Ichigo right now.

"I'm sorry," Renji said in a whisper, nuzzling Ichigo's hair. "I know this sounds, ah, stupid—"

"Shut up," Ichigo interrupted. "That's not what I want to hear."

Renji's breath hitched in his throat. "Ichigo, I—"

Ichigo pressed a finger over Renji's lips. "Only when you're ready," he said quietly. Then he pulled away and looked at Renji. "I know we have issues to work out, and it's not going to be easy. But I just can't live knowing that we never _tried_ ," he said in a rush, his cheeks suddenly pink.

Renji's mouth twitched, and Ichigo swore that he saw the redhead's eyes redden.

That was all the reply he needed.

* * *

**To be continued...**

**How was that for a little bit of fluff? =) Not overdone, I hope!**

**By the way, "kouchou" means school principal, hence Hitsugaya's title.**

**I'll do a final wrap-up with an epilogue next, but this is pretty much it! A little sneak preview: the epilogue will have some lemony goodness. *cough* *cough***


	12. Epilogue

"Time to wake up, sleeping beauty. Wake up!" Renji's voice said in a low, sultry tone.

Ichigo groaned under his breath and reached for his phone. After a few blind attempts, he managed to hit the right button, and his custom-made alarm sound was silenced. Renji had programmed it into his phone one day as a prank, and Ichigo had liked it so much that he just left it as it was.

"Ren, get up," Ichigo mumbled, voice scratchy from sleep. He turned around and slapped the spot next to him but met nothing but wrinkled bedsheets. It was still slightly warm, suggesting that Renji had just left the bed not long ago.

Rubbing his eyes, Ichigo sat up reluctantly. Surely they could afford to sleep in for a few more minutes? But then again, Renji had been jittery since last night, so Ichigo wasn't surprised that the redhead woke up before the alarm. In fact, he wondered if Renji had gotten any sleep at all.

Ichigo swung his legs over the side of the bed and stuffed his feet into his favorite pair of furry slippers. After a dramatic yawn, he finally stood up and trudged to the adjoining bathroom, where Renji was brushing his teeth, judging from the soft gargling sounds coming from there.

"Mmmph! G'mg m'ng," Renji said through a mouthful of Listerine as Ichigo slipped his arms around his waist from behind.

Ichigo laughed and dipped a finger in the toothpaste froth that was left behind around Renji's mouth. Eyes dancing with mischief, he smeared it on the redhead's nose, earning himself an elbow in the ribs.

Renji spit out the mouthwash into the sink and turned around, closing his palms over Ichigo's hands. He leaned in to give the younger man a peck on the lips and immediately wrinkled his nose.

"You have terrible morning breath, babe," he teased.

Ichigo blushed and pulled away, but Renji's grip tightened around his wrists. Renji laughed, then leaned in again to claim Ichigo's lips. Ichigo struggled a bit, feeling embarrassed, but Renji managed to pry his lips apart anyway. The strong spicy taste from the mouthwash instantly assaulted his mouth as Renji slid his tongue aggressively between his lips.

"There," Renji said when he finally released Ichigo's lower lip. "You're all fresh now."

"Gross!" Ichigo gave the redhead's calf a swift kick, but couldn't deny that his mouth did indeed taste a little better. He wriggled out of Renji's grasp and bent over the sink to rinse his mouth, then reached for his toothbrush.

"Aww, c'mon." Renji nuzzled Ichigo's hair. With a quick tug, he slipped his hands into Ichigo's boxers and slid them down to the younger man's thighs. He massaged the smooth skin slowly, savoring the warmth and firmness of Ichigo's legs. "I was just teasing you."

Ichigo shot his boyfriend a dirty look, but his features softened when Renji pulled him closer, pressing his back against Renji's bare chest. Ichigo's eyes fluttered closed when he felt warm fingers brush dangerously close to his happy place. Sensing the reaction, Renji blew lightly on Ichigo's ear and grinned when Ichigo shuddered.

"I think we can spare a few minutes," Renji murmured. He took Ichigo's earlobe between his teeth and sucked gently on it. "What do you say?"

Ichigo smiled. "Mm hmm," he hummed happily. He could feel Renji getting aroused behind him and felt a surge of pride and satisfaction that _he_ was the cause, even though it was pretty much a daily occurrence for six years now.

Renji bit down on Ichigo's ear, then turned him around slowly, his hand never leaving Ichigo's hips. One look into Renji's darkened eyes was enough to make Ichigo hard, and he hooked his arms behind the redhead's neck and pulled him closer. Ichigo peppered light kisses all over Renji's face before sighing into the redhead's ear. With his eyes closed, Ichigo slowly dragged his palm over Renji's chest, lingering a little longer over the scar from the gunshot wound below the right collar bone, while his other hand snaked up to rake through Renji's long hair.

A low whine slipped from Ichigo's lips when a hot palm cupped him inside his boxers. Renji smiled against Ichigo's hair and started stroking, keeping the pace slow and steady even as Ichigo's breath began to quicken.

"Mmm," Ichigo complained, thrusting into his boyfriend's hand, silently pleading for something _more_.

Renji's eyes fluttered closed as the sound went straight into the pool of heat between his legs. He held his hand still for a brief moment to collect himself, then he suddenly yanked Ichigo's arm over his shoulder and scooped him up in a fireman's carry. Ichigo yelped in surprise and started to laugh as he was carried into the bedroom and then dumped on the bed. He only had a few seconds to recover his breath before Renji was all over him, licking and nipping his neck and chest as he held the younger man down.

Ichigo groaned, knowing from Renji's frenzied pace that this was going to be rough — just the thing that he was craving now. He shifted his legs to trap Renji between them, then he rocked his hips upwards and felt himself harden even further as he brushed against Renji's taut abdomen.

The redhead growled deep in his throat and sat up just long enough to slip his underwear off, then he was back, claiming Ichigo's mouth and neck greedily. Ichigo squirmed beneath him, trying to free himself from his boxers but failing miserably as he felt himself melt under the relentless assault. He bucked his hips, hoping that Renji would get the hint. After five excruciating seconds, the redhead finally reached down, and a few hard tugs later, Ichigo was free.

They slid against each other, bare skin against bare skin, their moans becoming needier as friction and heat built. Then, finally admitting that he couldn't hold himself back any longer, Renji slipped his hand under their pillows and retrieved a small bottle.

Ichigo sighed softly as he felt Renji reach between his legs. He didn't really need this; they had just had a vigorous round before bed last night, but Renji always insisted on it no matter how urgent he felt. Ichigo suspected that it was a lingering fear from what Renji had witnessed back then, so he'd never stopped him. And it didn't hurt that Renji had a magical touch that was capable of bringing Ichigo to the brink with his fingers alone.

"Look at me," Renji murmured softly.

Ichigo complied, knowing that Renji loved to watch his expression when he entered him. He felt the blunt heat, the familiar ache, then his mouth fell open as Renji slid in, filling him with one strong thrust. He moaned, long and loud, and rocked back to take the redhead in even deeper.

"Shit," Ichigo hissed through gritted teeth, anxious to get things started. "I'm r-ready."

Renji nodded. He placed a quick peck on Ichigo's lips and pulled back, then he snapped his hips forward and buried himself to the hilt with almost brutal force. Ichigo cried out and arched his back, savoring the rare moment. They only indulged in rough sex occasionally, and usually only when Ichigo initiated it — another lingering side effect from that incident from almost ten years ago. It had taken hours and hours of persuasion before Renji was finally convinced that Ichigo was genuinely okay with it, that he actually liked it now and then.

Just _knowing_ that Renji was in the mood for this now made Ichigo painfully hard, and he had to force himself to calm down so that this would last longer than five seconds. Another savage thrust lifted his hips off the bed, and he screamed, immediately abandoning his feeble attempts of self control.

Renji gripped the back of Ichigo's knees and threw his legs over his shoulders, lifting Ichigo's body higher. Ichigo cried out again as Renji slammed into him, the new angle giving Renji even better access to his pleasure point. He was getting so deliciously close, and Renji's low, guttural groans only served to nudge him even closer.

A few thrusts later, Renji let go of Ichigo's legs and pulled him up onto his lap. Then he grabbed a fistful of Ichigo's hair and crushed their lips together, his hips never stopped moving. Ichigo panted into Renji's mouth and followed the rhythm, letting his body rise and fall at the same frantic pace.

Then, with one last thrust, Renji bit down on Ichigo's neck and stiffened, spilling himself deep within his boyfriend's velvety heat. The steady pulsing inside of him pushed Ichigo over the edge and he immediately followed suit, moaning Renji's name as he shuddered.

Spent, they clung to each other until their breathing returned to normal. Ichigo glanced at his wall clock out of the corner of his eye and whispered, "Tick tock."

Renji whipped his head up and practically jumped off the bed in his panic. Ichigo toppled backwards, laughing as he watched Renji run into the bathroom, cussing up a storm as he went.

Ichigo stretched and got out of bed himself, chucking softly when a string of expletives rang out as soon as the shower was turned on. Renji had no doubt forgotten to check the water temperature before stepping under the spray…again.

Ichigo understood the redhead's urgency, though. It was a big day today, after all. It wouldn't do if Renji showed up late.

* * *

Renji tugged on his tie nervously as he examined his reflection in the window for the umpteenth time that morning. After that, he peered intently at the window to make sure that it was clean. That led to another round of obsessive inspection of the rest of the shop. Renji wanted everything to be perfect. It had to be; so many years of hard work had finally led to this — his very own restaurant in Karakura's premium shopping district.

The journey hadn't been easy. He had Ichigo by his side all the way, but things weren't always rosy between the two of them. Painful memories resurfaced every now and then, often resulting in fights — even a brief separation three years ago — but they persevered and eventually emerged stronger than ever.

Explaining the situation to their friends had been a little awkward at first. Needless to say, people were stunned; Isshin, especially, felt hurt that Ichigo had kept the incident from him. But after they got over the initial shock, Renji was surprised by how supportive his friends were. Ukitake had welcomed him back with open arms, and Renji eventually did manage to finish fixing up the entire house. Since then, of course, Renji had moved out to his own place that he now shared with Ichigo.

Then, four years ago, Tessai decided to return to his wrestling roots. To Renji's shock, the man asked him to take over his business. Renji would be the new owner effective immediately, and he would pay Tessai back each month until he covered the cost of buying the shop — which, he thought, was a ridiculously small amount of money. But Tessai had insisted that that was all he would accept. Spurred on by Tessai's support and the joy of actually _owning_ something, Renji had thrown himself into the shop. The first thing he did had been to spruce up its look — fresh paint, wood work, new banner, upgraded furniture, advertisements — and customers started pouring in.

In fact, things had picked up so well that Renji decided to expand the business. He placed Hanatarou in charge of the original Tesshou Ramen Shop, then he set to work on his plan to open an izakaya, determined to serve the best sake and food in Karakura in a modern, East-meets-West type of setting.

And that led to today: the grand opening of Tesshou Izakaya. Employees of the two restaurants — both current and former — gathered in front of the shop along with a throng of onlookers, all waiting eagerly for the opening ceremony. When the auspicious time arrived, Renji would cut the ribbon together with Tessai.

"No! Don't lick that!" Orihime's uncharacteristically stern voice caught Renji's attention, and the redhead turned to see his friend pry her daughter off the floor. The toddler wiggled in Orihime's arms and protested loudly.

Renji smiled as he watched Hanatarou reach expertly into his diaper bag and whip out a bottle for his wife. Orihime thanked him with a quick peck on the cheek and walked away to feed their child.

"Oi oi, it's almost time!" Tessai piped up, pointing to his watch.

"We wait," Renji said firmly. Time was ticking by, but Renji refused to begin the ceremony without Ichigo by his side.

"What's taking him so long?" Jinta grumbled, annoyed that he had to wait so long before he could get his free meal from the new restaurant.

Renji wiped his brow. Jinta was right; what was taking Ichigo so long? He should've been here half an hour ago! Had he gotten lost on his way here? With a worried frown, he stuck his hand into his pocket and fished for his cell phone. Then, just as he was unlocking the screen, Hanatarou yelled excitedly, " _There he is_!"

Renji's eyes lit up as Ichigo's car screeched to a stop by the road side. All four car doors were thrown open at the same time, and four people got out — Ichigo from the driver's side, followed by an older man with long, wavy brown hair from the passenger's seat in front. A tall, curvy woman with dark skin and pale blond hair climbed out next, immediately attracting the attention of all the straight males in the audience with her exotic beauty. A short, skinny little girl with light green hair skipped up behind her.

Then, finally, the last person stepped out from the car. Renji let out a surprised gasp and ran up to catch the raven-haired woman who leapt into his outstretched arms.

"I'm so proud of you!" Rukia gushed, giving her stepbrother a quick squeeze before stepping away. "Kaien sends his regards."

Renji grinned as he pictured his new brother-in-law. Kaien would've accompanied that greeting with a solid punch to Renji's arm if he were here in person. Rukia had long since divorced her useless, ass-licking first husband and found herself a much better partner. Kaien was the epitome of the phrase "I don't give a fuck" when it came to Byakuya and his so-called authority over Rukia's life.

"And _that_ 's the reason we were late," Ichigo grumbled playfully as he pointed at Rukia. "Her flight was delayed."

Renji ruffled Ichigo's hair fondly, and then turned to greet Starrk and his family. Over the years, since Renji's criminal record and deportation history banned him from entering American soil, he and Ichigo had been trying to get Starrk to visit them in Japan. Now that his daughter was older, he finally took up their invitation. The older man — now one of the most experienced and famous negotiator on the police force in a big city in America — introduced his wife and daughter to his old friends, who were meeting them for the first time. Starrk had met Tia, a police sniper, a few months after Renji was released from prison. Their daughter, Lily, was born less than a year after that.

Their heartfelt reunion was cut short when Tessai announced loudly that the auspicious time had arrived. Renji and Ichigo made their way to the front of the restaurant, and five minutes later, Tesshou Izakaya was officially open for business.

As people wrestled their way into the restaurant, Renji turned to Ichigo and slipped his arm around the younger man's waist.

"Thank you," Renji whispered and brought their foreheads together.

Ichigo grinned. "Well, you owe me one massage a day from now on."

"Mmm." Renji licked his lips with a smirk. "Sounds like a good deal."

"Oh, _and_ ," Ichigo continued, his grin widening. "You get to clean the bathroom for the next six months."

Renji groaned and rolled his eyes. " _Way_ to ruin the moment, idiot."

Ichigo laughed, then he leaned in and whispered in Renji's ear, "If you do it _without clothes on_ , maybe I'll...oh, I dunno... _help_ now and then."

An eyebrow shot up towards Renji's hairline. Now, more than ever, Renji was thankful that he hadn't gotten on that train.

**~END~**

* * *

**I think I should've named this chapter "Light", haha! I'm sorry if I layered on the fluff a little too thick, I just** **_really really_ ** **wanted to give them the happy ending that they deserve.**


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